


Where It Began

by Krugerstop



Category: Elysium (2013)
Genre: Drama, Eventual slight OOC for Kruger, Explicit Language, F/M, Sexual Content, Smut, Violence, and that woman learns to be okay with being his, basically what happens when Kruger decides to keep a woman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:12:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2953598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krugerstop/pseuds/Krugerstop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What awaits a southern young woman adjusting to a new life in the heart of a decaying Los Angeles? Olivia is full of uncertainty, but that's all life is made of, isn't it? Under Kruger's roof, she'll have to face hell in order to survive. Somehow they'll make it work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The world had changed, but to those born after, the past was foreign.

From her few books Olivia knew as much as she was free to. Her schooling had ended years ago, out to the east of the United States. University was out of the picture, as up until her graduation of public school, her education had been without charge. If she had dared to take another step beyond that line, then she would risk asking her family to dig too deeply into their pockets. As much as her parents had wanted the best for their child, as most parents do, they could not afford to send her off for a higher calling. Olivia had accepted that fate at age 14.

The only thing left for her was to leave. There was nothing for her here. With companies falling into corporate ruin and the South being stricken into a financial crisis, she had to go. Of course where she dared to go was no better than home. The city of Los Angeles was facing a hard time of its own. When her flight had flown over the beginning of the city limits, she managed to squeeze by the aircraft's window and see the current state of decay. Overpopulation, high rates of crime, and "a city living in sin" as her mother had called it, were awaiting her below.

Leaving home hadn't been easy, as her family was all she had ever known. But even still her father recognized the wanderlust in her at an early age. He had urged her to go, as it was her time now to try and make something of what the world was giving her, and that was an opportunity to run. With a few bags in hand, she kissed her family goodbye and stopped to cry with her mother. "You get your emotions from her side of the family," her father had laughed as he drove her to the airstrip. He was known for only talking when he found it necessary – a trait she would soon notice she developed herself – and for being a bit of a stone-faced man.

"I think I get something from both sides. Mainly yours."

"That you do. Thank the good Lord above you didn't get their tendency to be incredibly irritable."

Olivia laughed and turned to the window. Anything to hide her crying.

Now ultimately alone in a city she had only seen through search engines, Olivia had to learn to move quick and think light on her feet. She clung tight to her belongings and found a corner of the airport to stop and gather her thoughts. Call a taxi, get to the nearest apartment complex, slap down the first note of rent and settle in. She'd find a job in the morning.

The taxi ride didn't calm her nerves, as the driver weaved through traffic and slammed on the brakes whenever he deemed it necessary. He spoke fast and seemed to want her in and out of his cab as soon as possible. She paid him and stepped away from the dirty vehicle just as he blared the horn at an adjacent driver and proceeded to cut them off and weave back into the city. That was when she excused herself into a nearby alley and vomited from the empty pits of her stomach.

Finding a room wasn't the hard part of her move. She knew she would have to settle for first-come-first-serve, and that was what she got. One bedroom, one bath, and a den and kitchen would keep her satisfied. The woman who had taken her money at the front desk was surprisingly pleasant for owning such a shabby little place. She had sprayed her room with a can of Febreze before they both stepped inside, but the faux aroma of clean cotton did not last long. Helping her put her bags away she asked why she had come to Los Angeles. Most people who came only did so to get away or for business, and even then it wasn't much of a wanting to be here, but rather a necessity.

"Seemed like the best option."

But maybe it wasn't.


	2. Chapter 2

As it would seem, Los Angeles was not the ideal place to choose to settle down.

From what Olivia could make of the city around her, values had been abandoned to help make room for surviving this dystopia. Families were putting children to work, making the elderly stand out in the hot sun and sell whatever they could to get by. Kids were pickpocketing and left to fend for themselves in small groups.

Then there were people like her, young men and women, trapped within the city limits and too afraid to go beyond it. You either sold your humanity to the city's heart and soul, or you died like a starved dog.

The more Olivia felt ostracized from the community, the more she saw herself as the latter. The last job she had been fired from now left her with no income, and she was afraid her life was on the line. There was enough money to last her through the end of the month, but what would follow was unknown. Strike that, she knew exactly where she'd end up: either living in the back alleys or left for dead. Neither option was pleasant, but both did manage to leave a nauseating sensation in the pit of her stomach.

The end of August came too quickly, and she knew her fate would be decided the next morning. The landlady approached Olivia, who sat by herself at a small table by the television set. She put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. At least it was comforting. She didn't turn to look her in the eye, but continued to stare down into her tea.

"I'm sorry, hon, but I'm afraid you'll have to pack your things."

"Yeah. I know."

Olivia's eviction was no one's fault but her own. Over the span of her unemployment, she had sold off much of her belongings, and unfortunately, a sizeable amount of her own clothing. Everything she now possessed was packed carefully in a messenger bag that bounced on her hip.

"Where will you go?" The landlady had been kind enough to spare her a few dollars and a handful of change. She was worried about what would happen to the sweet young woman who had just months ago made herself at home under her roof.

"I'll find something." She had tried to give her a reassuring smile, but there was no point in being insincere. Throwing her bag over her shoulder she made out into the streets and merged seamlessly into the crowd.

It was known that there was a considerable difference of atmosphere between night and day. During the daylight hours there was chaos, throngs of people crowding the streets, and the loud roars of aircrafts flying overhead. One in particular, one branded with the mark of the military, was known to fly quite low to the ground and cause heavy clouds of dust to stir up the people below. She had spotted it many times before from her veranda, cruising the skies as if to keep watch as the city slept.

She wished she could see it now as she walked the streets at night. It had lately become her equivalent to the North Star, something far away yet familiar enough to reassure her of her surroundings. But it was nowhere in sight, and she was undoubtedly lost.

From what she could tell, she had wandered into what was considered the outskirts of LA; not exactly as far as the abandoned tracks outside of the city, but far enough to consider yourself in a back alley of crime.

Olivia kept her eyes low as she parted through the nighttime crowd. She was fucked if she didn't manage to find a place soon. Forget trying to find a home tonight. As long as she could hide away in a hole in the wall far away from here, she could last through the night. There was a bus stop down a few blocks, and if she could reach it, surely it would be enough.

Cutting corners she walked steadily down block after block, hoping to get away as quickly as possible.

The shelter was just ahead, sitting under the flickering light of a streetlamp. Right now it was the most comforting thing she had seen all day.

Passing by a narrow alley, she paid no mind to the two men smoking cigarettes, or the footsteps that shadowed her.

Olivia did not hear them approach her, one of them snapping his arm around her neck while the other grabbed her waist, pulling her back into the darkness of an abandoned warehouse. She tried to scream, claw and everything else her instincts demanded of her. They threw her to the wall, the force knocking the breath from her lungs. It didn't help her in her efforts to fight back, as everything spun and her mind desperately tried to process that these men undoubtedly intended to kill or rape her. Or both.

One of them spoke in a language she didn't understand, and the other didn't speak at all, but gave curt gestures. The speaking man shoved his forearm against her throat, cutting off her crying. Olivia struggled, but feeling completely immobile and weak had left her a sobbing mess, a ragdoll.

Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She had lived a fairly sheltered life, and the only time the fear of rape ever crossed her mind was from the news stories, and those had made her feel far away from the issue. Admittedly Olivia had grown up under a sense of naivety, but thank God she had grown out of it. Now the threat was all too real, just like the sting of the blade cutting into the skin of her collar.

The one who refused to speak made to grab at her sundress, but she managed enough strength to bring her knee into his groin, momentarily distracting the one pinning her by her neck. She cried through her fleeting moment to scream, the tears blinding her vision. Everything was a blur.

A hiss of steel swung by her ear, and she pulled back into the wall, thinking one of them was striking at her with their knife. But something pulled the weight away from her, and without another thought she fell to the floor, curling her body against the concrete. The tears wouldn't stop.

The sensation of something thick and warm hit her skin. Olivia stilled her breath and lifted her head. Blood stained her dress and blended in with the freckles along her arms. A pool of it grew from under the gashed remains of the one silent attacker. Just above him the other struggled against a long, thin blade, the gold and silver steel cutting through his throat. He choked on his own blood until his body fell limp.

She watched the man standing above her attackers press the bottom of his boot to the other man's neck and delight in the muffled crunch. It was enough to make Olivia bury her head in her arms and shut out everything around her. She refused to open her eyes, to acknowledge the violent man, despite him having just saved her from her assailant's intentions. She felt him approach her, towering over her from what seemed like a terrifying height.

"You're probably the dumbest fucking thing I've ever seen."

Olivia lifted her head and stared up with wide blue eyes.

"On your feet, meisie, you're comin' with me."


	3. Chapter 3

"Will you cut that out?"

Olivia flinched at the man's snarl, but took a deep breath and tried to calm her gasping sobs. The reality of what happened just minutes ago continued to shake her to her core. She was even trembling under his grip, where his hand currently clutched the back of her neck. His hold would surely leave bruises for her to find in the morning.

After she had earlier picked herself up off the warehouse floor, the stranger had pulled her close and had thrown a tattered cloak over them, hiding her away under his arm. He was heavy on her, and now being pinned so close to him made her realize how much larger he was compared to her 5' height.

"Where are we going?" Olivia did not dare look up to him. She hadn't been able to see his eyes, but she imagined they were black like coal and ablaze with adrenaline. It didn't help that he also smelt of smoke and grime. She honestly wouldn't be surprised if he were born of brimstone.

"Home."

Whatever he considered home, Olivia imagined the two of them shared a different view on what it meant.

He kept them in the shadows, weaving through alleys and back streets towards the outer ring of the city. They didn't speak to one another for the rest of their walk. Olivia's mind reeled with questions and with reservations on going home with this man. He may have saved her, but his intentions were still unclear, and the more her mind wandered, the more she was afraid he may try to harm her himself. And she could just forget trying to run from him. Something told her he was used to hunting.

His home was a pitiful excuse for a flat that sat above an abandoned garage. Faded red graffiti tagged the walls and even the debris around it. A light flickered from a neighboring window, and she figured that there were others who were squatting in empty rooms.

He shoved her through the door and followed her up the flight of stairs where the wood creaked under their weight. Olivia rushed, clutching the skirt of her sundress to her thighs to keep his gaze from wandering. Even still she could feel his eyes pinned to her. She enjoyed a moment of freedom before his hand returned to her neck, guiding her towards a door at the end of a short hallway. He threw open the door and elbowed her inside before taking a quick look behind him and locking the deadbolt.

The impression the man's living space left on her was less than impressive. She kept her eyes low to appear impartial to the conditions, but still she scanned her surroundings. He stomped past her, nearly knocking her into a rickety table covered in beer bottles and sweat-stained clothes. He disappeared around a corner, leaving her standing alone in what appeared to be a den.

"Sit." With two beers in hand he returned and gestured to a small chair at the table. He sat across from her, shoving the clothes and the bottles to the floor.

Olivia did as she was told. Her body begged for her to relax, but she couldn't help but wrap her arms around her middle, a gesture of self-preservation. The man ignored her obvious discomfort and cracked open the bottle.

"I've got a question for you, girl." His voice startled her after he had sat there in silence for a moment or two. It was strained, as if he were trying to hold back a temper deep within his chest. And anger, laced with that thick, foreign accent of his (maybe she'd question him about it later), was nothing pleasant. His grip on the neck of the bottle tightened and she imagined it would soon crack under the pressure.

She didn't answer, but instead dared to study him. He was glaring at the wall, his face fixed in a stone-like anger. The cloak had been tossed aside, and now she could see his choppy mop of hair and the details of his weathered appearance. There were bionic implants near his temples and a matching pair just at the corner of his eyes. Those, along with the military fatigues, told her he was serious business, a force to be reckoned with. He surely must be an agent of some kind, a bodyguard. And as she had suspected, his eyes were pure black, unlike anything she had seen before.

Under different circumstances, she would find this man handsome with his beard and slender nose. But as of now, she grew uneasy in his company.

"First," he began, "quit fuckin' lookin' at me like that."

She averted her gaze.

"What I want to know is," he took a swig of the beer and immediately slammed the bottle onto the tabletop, "what the fuck you were doin' out there."

Olivia continued to stare down at the table. "I'm kind of homeless now and—"

He snorted. "'Kind of homeless'... You either are or you're not."

"I am."

"Still doesn't explain what you were doin' out."

_...What?_ She figured that had been enough of an excuse to find her lost in the streets of— Oh. Suddenly she understood. He wanted her to admit her faults.

"I got lost."

"Yeah you did. I've seen every sorry bastard around these parts before, but I've never seen you."

Now he was staring her down, and she wished she couldn't see him in the corner of her vision.

"You've either got nerve for wanderin' around in that little number—" he pointed at her red sundress. "Or you really are the dumbest fuckin' thing I've ever seen. Know which one I'm leanin' towards?"

This man had saved her, and for that she was grateful, but his mistreatment of her was not wanted. It was turning her gratitude into bitterness.

"Then why did you even bother with me?" Olivia snapped, for once meeting his harsh stare. Immediately she regretted that decision.

His eyes stayed fixed on her, as if he were hoping she would be set in flames. Finally he looked towards the other beer and grinned. "You made good bait."

She waited for him to explain, as words currently escaped her. He had just called her bait, a silly lure for him to use. After what happened, how dare he?

"Those two fucks you ran into were hackers. And damn good ones, too. I've been trailin' them for weeks. Would have had them too if it weren't for my boys..." He stared at the bottle in his gloved hand for a moment before pointing it towards Olivia, eyebrows raised. A kind enough gesture, but...

"No thanks."

"What, can't handle it?" He chuckled.

"I don't drink much."

"Oh you're going to be fun." He mumbled against the lip of the bottle before finishing and dropping it onto the floor at his feet. "But they've been evadin' me for a while. Figured they were around this shithole somewhere. Then wouldn't you know it, in comes a little rabbit." He threw her a darkly amused look. "Thought you'd be useful enough. You distracted 'em."

"You would have let them rape me just to track them down."

Silence fell between them, and the man didn't bother to answer, but instead stood and began to unfasten the vest from his body.

"In the morning, you better make yourself scarce."


	4. Chapter 4

It was uncertain if Olivia would be able to make it through the night, as she was currently in an unfamiliar environment.

After he had thrown his weapons and armor fatigues aside, he left her alone in the open space of the den. She decided she would rest along the couch, despite the worn fabric and faint stains. Anything was better than being lost in the streets or a corpse in the gutter.

From where Olivia lay, she could hear him stalking around his room. He was silent, but she could hear the faint sound of clothing being thrown aside followed by his belt hitting the floor. She imagined he climbed into bed and settled down for the night. Then the lights went out, and she was left alone in the dark.

For a while she stared at the back of the sofa, not completely registering what was in front of her, but rather being lost in her own whirling thoughts. Where would she go in the morning? During the daylight she would be safe to keep to the main roads and find something accommodating, but when night fell, she would be left without her bearded savior and his blade. She had little to no friends, and there was no way to catch a flight home so soon.

'Become a prostitute,' a sick part of her mind offered. 'Find a whorehouse and beg if you have to.'

'But I don't want that,' she replied. 'I'm a virgin, and the men would tear me apart.'

Rolling over onto her side, Olivia took a chance and glanced into the room where he had disappeared. He was sitting up, back against the wall and a thin sheet thrown over his waist. Her stomach turned when she noticed he was staring her down, jaw tight and a smirk hidden in his wild scruff. Even when she turned to hide her face into the couch she could still see the black of his eyes piercing her mind.

"Go to sleep." she could practically hear his voice rumbling through her own chest.

Somehow she managed to, despite the haunting image of his stare locked behind her eyelids.

When morning came, she stumbled from the couch. Sunlight came streaming in through slips in a ratty black sheet that covered the open window. After hearing the faint sounds of snoring in the bedroom, she was happy that he was still fast asleep.

Grabbing her bag she made for the tiny bathroom in the other corner of the flat, locking the door behind her for good measure. Thank God all that she had she kept on hand in her bag. Unfortunately all her best had been sold off in an attempt to earn money, but at least she had her dress and a few camisoles and shorts. They were enough.

Olivia pulled the dress over her head and looked over the rips in the fabric. The dried blood had blended into the red dye, but she'd try and wash it whenever she could. After she wiggled into her new outfit, she took a brush to her hair, trying to add some volume to the dirty mop of short red locks. It was useless, and she had no time to bathe. She was filthy, and the feeling of dust and grime clinging to her skin and under her nails made her ache for warm water.

When she caught her reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink (the crude impact of broken glass was indication enough that he had become violent in the close quarters) she stopped and stared back at her reflection. Olivia was no natural beauty. Her freckled face, still round with baby fat, left her feeling less like her age and more like a child. It didn't help with her short stature and plump body, either. She thanked good genetics for her large breasts and round hips, but not so much everything in between. Another reason to abandon the whorehouse plan, she figured.

She threw her bag over her shoulder and swung open the door, only to be greeted by the stranger lingering in his bedroom door. He must have just woken up, judging by his disheveled hair and the squint of his eyes. And—oh. Olivia averted her eyes and tried to ignore the blush creeping across her face. A man had a right to walk around naked in his own home, but at least he could try and remember he wasn't alone. She had to remind herself that this man seemed to carry no decency about him.

When he didn't bother to shout at her for still being in his home, she stood surprised. She watched him turn his steely gaze from her to the kitchen as he straightened up and strutted across the room. Even when he had just woken up, he still managed to assert himself the way a pure alpha would.

"I wanted to thank you," she piped up after he disappeared through the doorway.

No reply, but she could hear him shuffling and raiding through cabinets. A man needed his coffee, she presumed.

Tiptoeing to peek around the corner, she eyed the back of his head. Anything to keep her eyes from raking down his backside. He hovered over a dirty coffee pot, shoving it under the faucet and staring down as it filled with hot water.

Finally he spoke up. "You owe me," his voice came from somewhere low in his chest.

She nodded. "Okay."

"What's your name, girly?"

"Olivia."

He turned and eyed her tiny form, appearing to be memorizing her. "I'll be waitin'," he grumbled and returned to his brew.

Something about that troubled Olivia down to her core. Obviously a man like him would be the type to remember when someone was indebted to him, and he would find any means to be repaid.

"What about you?" she asked.

"What  _about_  me?"

"I don't know your name."

Throwing his head back, the man took several deep gulps of pure black coffee from the pot, shaking his shaggy hair afterwards as if the drink had shot a jolt of warm electricity down his spine.

"Ah, ain't nothin' like it," he sighed, dragging his hairy forearm across his mouth and giving her another look, "It's Kruger."

Olivia nodded.

"Now get out," Kruger made for the rest of his beverage and mumbled against the brim of the pot, "Before I decide to keep you."

Not really sure what he meant by that (yet certainly sure she wasn't supposed to hear him at all), she made for the door. She wanted to ask him where she should go, what should she do. But she had a feeling the only reply she would receive would be a "That's not my fuckin' problem." And the last thing she needed from him was attitude.

* * *

Being homeless in Los Angeles was already nothing new. People begged on street corners all hours of the day, and most of them managed to earn less than a few throws of spare change. No one had money to spare.

Olivia did not beg from others. Instead she stayed behind restaurant alleys, scrounging for scraps and even managing to keep herself safe at night by sleeping outside the hospital. At least there she knew no one would harm her there, tucked in the alleyway between the fence and the infirmary walls. She had found worn bedding and nestled herself into a corner where she could lie in the shadows and out of view. This had been her life for the past few weeks, and she wasn't proud of it, but at least she was alive.

In the back of her mind she figured Kruger had forgotten her. She had been in his life for one night and had left it the next morning. A strange part of her wanted him to remember, while the other begged he had moved on.

She found him one day out in the streets, skulking around and parting through the crowd like a shark through a school of fish. Hunting, perhaps, she wasn't sure. It wasn't until he passed by when she noticed he wasn't alone.

Two equally well-built men trailed after him, talking loudly above the crowd. As they were dressed in the same fatigues as Kruger, she figured they were probably a team, and judging by their inflection, they were all of the same nationality. Shit, she had forgotten to ask him about that accent.

Keeping a tight grip on her bag she snuck into the mass and followed them up the dusty streets.

"Crowe," she heard Kruger pipe up after he had been silent for the past few minutes. The bald man to his left perked up. "You're payin' for all this."

The other man seemed to get a kick out of this and received a quick blow to his bicep, courtesy of Crowe.

She stopped following them once she watched the three of them make a beeline into one of the more infamous cathouses Los Angeles had to offer. She would never judge someone for their desires, and it was understandable that men such as themselves needed to have their needs catered to, but for some reason that Olivia wasn't comfortable with addressing, she felt a sickening wave of envy roll over her. He owed her nothing, least of all his attention.


	5. Chapter 5

If the harsh city life didn't kill Olivia first, then the summer sun surely would.

The people seemed to be thankful for whenever clouds hovered over their heads. Rain was a gift, and she didn't feel so bad when she joined the children and danced in the downpour. She always loved the rain. A popular story from her mother was where she gave birth to her bouncing baby during a furious thunderstorm. She even liked to joke that somehow Olivia had managed to capture the storm in the gray of her blue eyes. Even if it was ridiculous, she liked to think of it as a compliment.

Today she ran through the rain, ducking under market awnings when she could. Despite her efforts to keep dry, her hair curled, stuck to her flushed cheeks, and her clothes clung uncomfortably to her body. She sat at a table under a bar's canopy and asked a tattooed waiter for water. "You're soaking in it," the young man laughed, but still brought her a cup and left her to sit alone.

It had been a week or so since she had last seen Kruger, but it had been only minutes since he crossed her mind. The rogue left a gnawing impression on her, one that sought to consume her. When she slept she saw his eyes, and when she was clumsy she heard him chastise her, often calling her 'stupid and weak.'

_Why him_ , she wondered.

The answer came when she dreamt of him, coming at her as naked and primal as a wild man would. He didn't touch her, but just observed her like she were prey. She only felt his touch through his eyes, and it was so startlingly erotic that she woke up in a fever, her body tingling in places only her own hands had touched.

Olivia became fascinated with Kruger because he was everything she had been taught against. To experience him would be like tasting something foreign. There was so much in him to explore, but would she allow herself to get close enough?

The streets were empty, save for a few wandering dogs and a neighbor or two. No one wanted to bother in this kind of weather, except for a couple hurriedly making their way through the downpour. As they grew near, she could make out Kruger's weathered face peeking out from behind his burlap cloak. He was pulling along a young woman, brunette and tall, who didn't seem to enjoy his hand snatched around her upper arm. Olivia looked away, hiding behind her hair.

Ignoring the nauseous feeling in her gut, Olivia watched the two leave her line of sight. She assumed he would take her to his home and fuck her until he was satisfied. Judging by his scowl, the woman would be treated roughly and maybe come out with bruises and red hickeys. She blushed as the image of the woman's lean body morphed into her own, littered with imprints of bites and handprints reddening her naked skin.

"Are you okay?" The waiter startled her.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're a little red in the face."

"Fever," she lied.

* * *

A bit surprised she could tell the difference between each and every dirty street, Olivia ducked into the doorway of the structure Kruger decided to call home. The door swung back on its spring and smacked her bottom, as if the filthy place was welcoming her back. But she missed it like a rabbit missed their burrow, surprisingly. Even if it had been weeks since she last ran down these steps, the creak under her was familiar. Hopefully she wouldn't disturb them during their rendezvous.

The woman stumbled from Kruger's door as if she had been thrown from the inside. Hair teased and bright red lipstick smeared, she had obviously been manhandled.

"I don't get paid enough for this asshole," she hissed as she fumed by, shoving a handful of bills into her bag.

Olivia felt some reservations about knocking on Kruger's door, but she had come this far and couldn't afford to spend another night struggling to keep alive. The decision was up to her. Either offer herself to him for work, or end up working to offer herself in ways she felt too disgusted to imagine.

When she did knock, it was followed by something being thrown to the floor and storming footsteps approaching her. As he came closer she could fully hear grumbling through the chipped wood.

"I fuckin' gave you enough, ya bitch, what more can you want—" Kruger threw the door open and seemed to fill the frame. She took note of how his anger seemed to bring life to that strange accent she still wanted to ask him about. But it was also important to note that she would want to avoid riling that same anger altogether.

Olivia stared up meekly at the burly man and wrung her hands around the strap of her bag. The last time she had been here, he had been completely naked without any concern for her presence. Now, he might as well be bare to her again, considering the only clothing on him were the shorts hugging his upper thighs. He must have just finished with her, as he was flushed and still breathing through his nose. As soon as he had flung open the door the heat seemed to radiate off of him, making her uncomfortable under her own clothes.

Seeing him like this after what she guessed must have been quite a good fucking made something twist within her. Her body shook, but with either arousal or apprehension she couldn't tell.

"Well well," he looked her over once before leaning to give a quick glance down the hall. "There's a face I haven't seen."

"Can I talk to you?"

"I don't know, girly," he cocked his head and scratched at his jaw. "Can you?"

Licking her lips, she bit back her urge to snap. "I came all this way—"

"Oh I'm sure it was a journey from the back alley to my front door."

Of course this man would be able to run circles around her all day with his quick retorts. He held the advantage with his intimidating presence alone. Olivia took a moment to ponder her next move, but before she could realize it, her body had willed itself to duck past him and take quick steps into the room. Like an animal backed into a corner she seemed to act on instinct without second thought. His eyes followed her over to the table where he had questioned her just weeks ago. He didn't seem to be cross at her suddenly forcing herself into his home, but instead seemed amused by her moxie.

The door closed, and the slip of his fingers locking the deadbolt did not go unnoticed. No doubt he had made sure she saw the lock turn, and was quiet enough to allow her to hear the click echo across the room. If things turned sour, there was no way she'd be leaving here alive. Olivia breathed in a shaky breath and waited for him to join her at the table. He smiled to himself as he pulled back the chair and threw his feet atop the wood.

"So start talkin'."

"I want to make you an offer."

"You said you wanted to talk, not make deals."

He did it again, catching her in a corner. She sat up to pretend she felt confident in her words. At least she had rehearsed scenario after scenario in her head the entire walk here.

"I want to talk to you about what I owe you."

That shut him up, and he fixed those menacing black eyes on her.

"If you let me stay here, I'll clean for you." When he said nothing, she pressed on. "I'll cook, I'll clean...I'll do errands. I'll do anything—"

"Anything?" The smug smile returned to his face. "You sure about that? Might want to choose your words more carefully."

Fuck, what a horrible time for the images she had been fantasizing of to flash across her mind. Her eyes fell to his hands, but as soon as she felt a ghost-like touch on her thigh she looked away. "I just can't be back on the streets again. I can't."

"What, it didn't toughen your tits?" Kruger laughed, reaching down to his side for a beer. When she didn't laugh along with him, he threw back the bottle and let the humor fall from his face. "I don't need a maid."

"I don't know what else to give you."

"I doubt that." He snapped, eyes trailing below her face.

Despite her lust for Kruger, she wasn't completely oblivious to the idea that he would somehow hurt her. The fantasy versus the reality of the beast sitting across from her was a conflict worth questioning.

Olivia took a deep breath and pleaded. "Please. I'll try to find work. I'll give you my pay. I don't care."

They fell silent while she waited for an answer. She could hear the rain had stopped, and children were shouting at one another in the street below. A sliver of sunlight slipped between one of the dark tattered sheets that covered the window. The heat would return tonight, and if she was denied and put back in the alley—

"You ever heard of The Black Cat?"

She shook her head.

"Why would you, it's a strip joint in town. Not a place for you to really wander into. I know a guy. He'll put you to work. And maybe I'll get a lap dance out of it." He chuckled and threw back his head to finish the beer.

Olivia worried what kind of work he meant, but she would save that worry for another time. "Does this mean I can stay?"

"Better get started on cooking my dinner, eh?"

She felt her eyes widen. Normally she would feel compelled to throw herself at someone who showed her compassion, but she remembered whom she was dealing with and kept her place in her seat. Still, she felt a smile tugging at her lips. "What would you like?"

Kruger stood and from this higher angle seemed to stare down the collar of her shirt. Olivia didn't bother to outwardly acknowledge this, as her newly twisted side wanted his full attention. "Stew. And you better stay in the kitchen until you're done. I've got something to take care of," he fixed her with his piercing stare and then disappeared into the tiny bathroom, locking the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter involves violence and gore.

Olivia was expected to be awake before the sun. Her morning routine consisted of dashing around the corner, out of sight and into the kitchen, to change before Kruger could wake and catch her in nothing but her top and panties. The coffee was the first thing to be ready, and when he would shuffle into the kitchen, the boiling of the water was the thing to snap him awake. Breakfast, when he took it, was usually sausage and eggs, preferably scrambled into one mass to heap onto his plate. Who knew he would have such particular tastes.

After living under his roof for a week, she still wasn't used to the hours he stayed gone. She never knew where he went or why he bothered to venture out into the heat of the day, but she didn't want to pry. Kruger's life was his own business, not hers. She merely lived in it.

When he did leave, he left without a word, never giving her an indication of where he was going or when he would return. One night she prepared his dinner and he did not return until the early hours of the morning, stumbling in drunk and muttering under his breath. The meal went cold and her work had been for naught, and Kruger didn't care. He collapsed into his bed and as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was snoring, a harsh sound. Olivia threw the food out into the streets for the dogs to feed on and allowed herself some rest.

One morning he spoke through shoveling his food into his mouth. "I'm taking you to the Black Cat today."

She merely swallowed her worries and nodded.

The Black Cat was located at least 20 minutes of a walking distance away. While it wasn't one of the more glamorous and high-dollar strip clubs, the popularity made it well-known. The neon lights were a complete waste during the day, but still they flashed in mute colors around a curvy rendering of a black cat with a pink collar. Tasteful.

Despite being one of the cheaper clubs, Olivia found the inside to be luxurious enough (or at least the place was masked enough) to please its patrons. Smooth black stages and a long chain of curtains fashioned around each one's entrance. Things were surprisingly clean, even the bar.

Kruger kept his hand at her back, shoving her towards the long stretch of bar to their very left. The man behind the counter was large, but in a way that reminded her of her father; built enough to show who stayed in charge, but seemed approachable.

"There's a familiar face," the bartender smiled and threw his rag over his shoulder. "And a new one."

Without Kruger's approval Olivia reached over the counter and shook the man's hand. She lived by a certain principle: stay friendly whenever possible. "I'm Olivia."

"I'm Markus," he looked from her to Kruger. "She the one you called me about?"

"Yah. She needs to be put to work." He sounded as if he had better things to do, as if her paying him in her wage still wasn't enough of a winning deal.

"Right, right. Well little lady, can you dance?"

Olivia felt the color run to her cheeks. "N-No, I don't dance." Please for the love of God, don't put me on the stage, she prayed. "I don't think anyone would be interested in seeing that," she added under her breath.

Kruger gave a hum of what sounded like disapproval, but she ignored him.

"Maybe she could work with the girls in the back?" Markus suggested. "You a virgin?"

Immediately she could feel Kruger's eyes on her, waiting with interest to hear the reveal. If she lied, she guessed she'd be made to prostitute herself, something she wished to avoid. If she told him the truth, the big beast would know, and at the moment she had no idea how she would feel with him knowing she was untouched. Maybe the truth would work to her advantage and she could one day find herself in Kruger's bed, a fantasy she wasn't sure was worth the trouble just yet.

"Yeah, I am."

Hearing Kruger inhale behind her made her wonder just what was going through his mind right now.

Markus seemed to mull this information over, but before he could say a word, Kruger spoke up.

"Make her a waitress."

"She'd be worth a lot more if I put her in the back—"

"Waitress." He spoke as if his word was final, and in this case, both she and Markus knew it was. "Dress her up or make her walk around naked for all I care, but she's a waitress and nothing more. Understood?"

"You got it, man. When can you start, Olivia?"

"She'll be here tomorrow."

Kruger seemed to enjoy treating her like a piece of property, and she knew she had no power to fight it. This must be what he considered part of her deal.

The entire walk home consisted of silence between the two. This gave her plenty of time to wonder why he saved her from spreading her legs for anyone who paid enough. What had sparked his decision to keep her away from that fate? Something felt suspicious, but she couldn't tell whether to be concerned or hopeful about where this would eventually lead her. Markus even mentioned how much more he'd receive if she whored herself. Kruger didn't seem like a man who was overly concerned with funds, judging by his living arrangement and the upkeep of his home. No, this was a man who enjoyed other things, things that didn't heavily involve monetary profit. The way his fingers twitched and the way his body stayed in a near constant state of tension gave him away.

While she may have been thankful for him sparing her from selling herself, she knew better than to not fear him.

* * *

The day she came to truly fear Kruger started with a sunny morning where the pedestrians bustled through the street to get to the markets and to work. Olivia parted the tear in the black sheet and peered out, enjoying the breeze caressing her cheek.

"Get away from the window."

She spun around and felt herself shrink under Kruger's glare. He had at least been awake for an hour or so, but didn't bother to speak to her until now. He was dressed in his fatigues, but not fully armored.

"Do you want me to fix another pot of coffee?" Maybe she could appease him with the disgusting drink.

"No. I want you to shut up and make sure the door's locked."

He moved across the room and slipped into the bathroom, just cracking the door enough to allow himself in. She noticed him coming and going from the tiny room for the past few days, but she dismissed it as his 'Krugerness.' Doing as she was told, she checked the door's locks and even fastened the extra he kept just out of her reach, standing on her tip toes to secure it.

She heard the bathroom door open, his footsteps storm over to the table by the window, and then something heavy fall into a chair. When she turned, she froze on the spot.

Kruger gripped the bleeding shoulder of a man shaking in the chair. When he gave the man a squeeze, he jerked and screamed behind the gag forced between his teeth. There was a line of wire wrapped tight around his thick wrists, cutting into his skin and surely burrowing its way deeper into his flesh whenever he struggled.

Her lips parted to speak, but it was physically impossible to find the words.

"Come 'ere and sit with us," he nodded to the chair across from him, refusing to take his stare off of the wounded man. "And be a good girl for me and keep quiet, understood?" When he did turn to address her, he fixed her with a stare that clearly read if she didn't do as she was told, there would be hell to pay.

While Olivia found the willpower to cross the room and join him at the table, Kruger kept his hand firmly on the captive while the other reached for something hitched to his belt. "Mike here has something that I want. But he's been a fuckin' problem for me for a while now."

When she looked towards the thug, she noticed the multiple nicks and cuts on his hands and up his arms. There were even faint pink scars on his fingers. They weren't self-inflicted, as the reach of the random pattern of scars stretched up where he would have been unable to bend. She realized who exactly cut up this man when Kruger flicked open a military-issued knife. Her father owned one just like it. Obviously Kruger had been spending time slicing away at him.

"But I've lost my playful mood, and today is Mike's last chance to tell me what I need to know." His onyx eyes switched from the man's paling face to her own. She didn't return the look and continued to stare at the few gashes that had been left open to bleed and surely become infected.

Kruger whipped off the dirty rag from the man's mouth. He immediately choked on the air, breathing it in too quickly.

"Why don't you tell the lady here what it is I want, boet?" The smile working its way through Kruger's beard was jovial, and he shook as if he were holding back a laugh. Even his jaw was locked tight. This man's pain amused him, yes, but there was also an underlying anger behind that shit-eating grin.

"I told you I don't know—"

The blade poised for the ready in Kruger's gloved fist came down and nearly impaled the thug's wrist. Olivia's hands flew to her lips to contain a scream, but there was no sound, only the twisting pain in her throat. She wanted to look away, but seeing something so grotesque right before her eyes was fascinating in a way that made her cringe.

"It's easy for me to spot a liar, ya know." For a moment the smug smile slipped from Kruger's face. "And if I hear another out of you, I  _will_  cut that fat neck of yours."

The man's eyes flickered to Olivia, but she could offer him nothing. She mentally put the pieces of this encounter together.

For a week now, she had been living under Kruger's roof, and all that time, this man had been here, right under her nose. When Kruger accepted her offer, he had locked himself away in the bathroom and only reemerged when she knocked on the door and informed him his supper was ready. He had been keeping him stowed away in the tub, bound and gagged and left to bleed out. For a week now, Kruger kept a prisoner in his own home. When she asked him why he kept the bathroom door locked at all times, he'd bark at her and tell her to go downstairs if she needed something. There was another bathroom below if she needed it, and since he continually refused to explain why he'd make her go down, she needed it often. She obeyed without question, just like he knew she would, although she did suspect something was amiss. While she was oddly grateful for the earlier secrecy, he was now throwing her head first into his world, a world she may not be ready to experience so soon.

"I'm a busy man. I've got deadlines to meet and a bitch to kiss up to." Grabbing hold of the knife's handle Kruger gave the weapon a twist, earning a long and pained groan from the thug. "And I need you to tell me what you know."

Olivia sat straight in her seat, eying the knife still grasped in Kruger's fist. At any second he could whip it from the man's arm and stab it anywhere he pleased. She silently prayed it would be the table this time instead of his body.

Mike seemed to struggle with what exactly he wanted to reveal. He licked his lips and winced at the pain that was undeniably surging through his body. Olivia figured he must have been deciding on whether revealing his secrets would either end his suffering or still bring him into hellish agony. Or maybe death was the only way out.

"There's gonna be an exchange," he started, trying to take even breaths. "9 guys...one of them has the dealer's name—I don't know which one—and I swear that's all they told me about it..."

Olivia waited for Kruger's next move, and it seemed Mike was doing the same.

"They don't tell me anything, man...Fuckin' pricks cut me out and I end up with nothin'..."

This seemed to please him, as he pulled on the blade and plucked it from the man's wrist. Mike clenched his teeth, but seemed thankful to have the damned thing dislodged.

"Now see, that wasn't so hard, eh?" Kruger moved around Mike and gave his wounded shoulder a hard clap. "Honesty is the best policy, I always say."

Olivia looked to Mike's relieved and smiling face before he was hauled to his feet and panicking under Kruger's strong grip. "W-What are you doing!?" He was ignored by the bigger man and with a shove he fell into the bathroom. "I told you what I know!"

What followed was another plea, the sound of a struggle, and then the unsettling split second of silence just before a strangled and gurgled cry. Olivia found herself standing and staring at the open door, watching Kruger's shadow looming in the entryway. She could hear him grunting over the thick and muffled sound of his blade hacking through what she could only imagine as the thug's neck. It continued even as she felt the bile stinging in her throat. She had to lie down, to cover her ears and block out the noise. Once she heard something heavy hit the floor, she felt her eyes roll and her head spin. God, just make it stop.

Backing away with nausea away from the door, Olivia fell onto the couch. As she shut her eyes tight and listened to her own sobbing, she could imagine herself standing over him, watching Kruger kill and grin as he worked. She could see the blood pooling in the tub's basin and swirling down the drain, and the blood all over him, matted in his beard and on his hands. He'd lick the copper taste from his lips and delight in the carnage, all while she looked on without a sound.

Her body was trembling, shaking with the force of her quiet and sharp-breathed weeping.  _What the fuck did she get herself into?_ Common sense screamed at her to run far away from this, but immediately she could see him hunting her down and tearing her apart in whatever way he could. All her thoughts were scrambled. She continued to shake in her seat, too afraid to think.

"Shhhh."

Olivia froze at the sensation of bloodied fingers petting her hair. She didn't move as Kruger continued to coo over her.

"You stayed quiet for me," he whispered, and she decided then and there that surely must be more terrifying than hearing any level of anger. It was almost affectionate, but there was that edge that told her otherwise. "Just like a good girl."

When she didn't reply, he released her hair and she listened to his heavy footsteps return to the bathroom. At the sound of the door slamming after him, Olivia released her bottom lip from between her teeth and openly began to cry.


	7. Chapter 7

The morning Kruger killed Mike also became the day she met Drake and Crowe.

While Olivia continued to cry on the couch, Kruger had ran his hands under the kitchen sink's faucet, shaking off the now watered down blood. When the door shook violently from knocking, she stopped, looking from him to the doorway.

"What is it?" he called out.

"It's us, boss."

She watched from her safe place on the sofa as Kruger let in the two brutes she had seen following after him weeks ago. If they were cleaned up, both would be good-looking men. They conversed with Kruger, gesturing towards the bathroom and laughing at how Mike's demise unfolded. Watching the three of them reminded Olivia of a group of neighborhood boys she once knew. Dirty and uncouth, the only thing they were missing being the dead frog the boys had chased after her with.

It was the one with the dark mohawk that spotted her first. Interrupting the other's laughter, he gestured to her.

"Who's the girl?"

Still grinning, Kruger lead the two across the room to the arm of the couch where Olivia pushed herself from her seat and wiped away at her teary eyes.

"She the one you told us about?" The other with the shaved head gave her a look over, sizing her up.

"Yah. This is the little rabbit," Kruger laughed.

"S-Sorry, I've been crying." She gestured to the reddening around her eyes. "I'm Olivia." No matter who these two were, even if they did work for a man like Kruger, she wanted to be polite. There would be no use in having an attitude or getting on their bad sides.

"Drake," the scruffy-faced one gave a nod.

"Crowe," the other mirrored him. She remembered him, the one who had to pay for their time at the whorehouse weeks ago.

"Why've you been cryin'?" Drake asked, surprising her.

Before she could answer, Kruger cut in. "She saw the mess I made."

The three of them stepped into the bathroom, barely managing their way inside, and observed the aftermath and the remains of Mike. Olivia swallowed down the bile in her throat and looked elsewhere.

"Christ," she heard Crowe exclaim.

"He's been a pain in my arse for weeks, boet," Kruger shot back, as if that explained his right to tear the man apart.

"Be a bit easier to get 'im into the bags now, eh?" Drake chimed in before looking back to Olivia, who now reclaimed her seat on the couch. He looked as if to say something, but chose not to and turned back to his comrades.

"Right. Okay girly," Kruger fixed her with a hard stare. "Once we get him out of there, you're gonna clean that up, understand?"

Her eyes widened. Of course he would make her do this. He might as well snatch her by her hair and shove her face into the bloodied floor. But she had sworn to do as he wanted. She nodded and made for the kitchen to try to find something to help. Rummaging through the cabinets, she listened to them shove the thug's remains into black garbage bags. To anyone who might see them, they would dismiss the three of them as being gentleman taking out the trash, unless they would notice the dark spotty trail that would follow.

When the door slammed behind them, she grabbed a dusty bottle of bleach and a bar of soap that had been thrown to the back of a drawer. Grabbing one of her shirts, she fashioned it around her head and over her nose and mouth, anything to keep the smell from being too overbearing. As she cleaned, down on all fours and scrubbing hard, she felt the tears well in the corners of her eyes once again. Here she was, a young woman wanting to run home and cry into her mother's lap, but instead living with a murderer who found enjoyment out of toying with her.

She continued to cry until her eyes were sore, and she fell into bed along the couch before Kruger returned home.

* * *

The next day Olivia awoke before the sun. Sleep-deprived and stumbling to throw on her clothes, she felt her body pushing itself to its limits. Every time she closed her eyes, praying sleep would take her, she saw the thug's blood mixing with the rust of the drain and suddenly the strong copper smell was all too real. Thanks to Kruger and his little display, she was shaken by fear throughout the rest of the day and into the evening. With maybe an hour of sleep under her belt, work would kick her ass. But she welcomed anything that would take her away from him.

Markus was the first to comment on her weary expression. She dismissed it to him as a bad nightmare that had kept her up and made to clean the tables. Maybe when the regulars arrived later in the day their ruckus would keep her awake.

Working at the Black Cat was surprisingly entertaining. While she could do without the leers and the grabby hands, waitressing was easy enough. The men paid her no mind when she passed around drinks and orders while the girls were busy wiggling their ass on the stage. Luckily Markus wasn't the kind of man who would embarrass her by bowing to Kruger's passing comment about having her serve in the nude. Her uniform, a simple lavender button up and black jean shorts, kept her feeling safe from attention. Sure, the black heels that came along with the outfit didn't help tone down the sex appeal, and yes, they were hell to walk in, but Olivia did feel a surge of confidence when she wove through the crowd of tables.

"So what's your deal with the big man, eh?" Markus interrupted her humming, wiping glasses behind the bar. "Dodgy guy to be hanging around..."

"He saved me a few weeks ago."

That seemed to throw him off. "No kidding?"

"I promise you it wasn't on purpose," Olivia scoffed, wringing her rag and moving to another table. "He called me bait."

"Now that sounds more like it."

"So I owed him. Now I'm cleaning, cooking...working here to get him some easy cash. I don't mind," she shrugged.

"You know, if you ever want to talk shit about him to get something off your chest, don't hesitate. I'm not pals with the bastard. I won't tell." Markus gave her a smile, a genuine one that she hadn't seen in what felt like years.

She could tell him about everything that happened the day before, rat him out and—no. A chill ran up Olivia's spine as she considered how truly trapped she felt. Kruger had become her means of protection, her safety, as sick as that sounded given who he was and what he had done. If taken away from her, she'd be right back where she started, and she didn't know Markus enough to depend on him. Sure he was nice, but nowadays she grew suspicious of everyone.

"Thanks," she returned with a tight smile and resumed her cleaning. Even if she was far from him, she could feel Kruger's shadow looming over her throughout the rest of her shift.

When the sun began to set over the dilapidated towers of downtown Los Angeles, her workday came to an end. Olivia weaved her way through the crowd still pouring in through the double doors and disappeared behind the counter. Tired as she was, the thought of returning to her new home left an unsavory taste in her mouth that just so happened to taste like bitter copper.

"You gonna be okay?" God knows how many times Markus had asked her that over the course of the day.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just going to stop by the market on the way home. I'm gonna make an attempt at getting some peace."

He chuckled. While he may not have liked Kruger, it seemed like Markus knew enough about him. She felt certain the two had a past. "Good luck with that."

Upon arriving home, Olivia threw her bag to the floor and allowed her heels to click click clack across the floorboards so Kruger could be fully aware she was home and still wore her 'confidence shoes.' Until now he had never seen her in her uniform, since this happened to be the first time he was home and not away for hours or days on end. He emerged from the rooftop in nothing but his boots and the shorts she had come to love. It seemed like no matter the weather, he enjoyed strutting about the apartment in nothing but those shorts that reminded her of her old high school gym classes. She'd bet money that none of the boys could ever manage to look as good as he did in them. The way they fit his hard physique left her heart pounding in her ears.

Before he could even make a crack at her clothes, she lifted the case of beer in her hand and placed it on the table. "I have some questions." Her throat felt tight as she spoke. If she wanted some kind of peace, she would have to put on a face and put aside her timid nature just for now.

He eyed the case before returning to her, and she could practically feel herself burning under his stare. "Please," she quickly added.

Without a word he crossed the room, like an animal suspicious of a trap. He jerked back the chair at the head of the table and sat.

Olivia took a seat to his left, adjusting her shorts as they rode up her thighs.

"You gonna wear that around here?"

"It's my work uniform."

The admiring hum that rumbled from his chest sent a tremor right to her core. She figured that even despite her looks a man could gaze at her and find the tight-fitting clothes appealing.

Pulling a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket, she placed them by the beer. Kruger's brows knit together, and the vexed look working across his face could only mean he was growing a bit testy.

"How'd you know?" He snatched the pack and plucked one from the group. Immediately he flicked open a lighter that he seemed to pull from thin air.

"It's strong. It's all over your clothes when I do the wash...along with a lot of blood," she trailed off, thinking of the amounts of dried stains on his fatigues.

"...And?"

She had guessed he would treat the evidence so indifferently, but she pressed on, her throat still tight. "What does that mean?"

His now growing smile did nothing to ease her nerves. "What do you think it means?"

"You killed Mike—"

"So you noticed, eh?" he chuckled at his own wit. Snapping open one of the cans, he swallowed nearly half and licked his lips.

"—which means you kill people. It's your job, isn't it?"

"Sounds like you already know the answer to that."

Never in a million years would she be able to match his quick wit. Olivia readied herself with more questions.

"I want to know who you are. I want to know what kind of job keeps you gone for days at a time, makes you kill a man—"

"One at a time, girly."

The edge of temper in his voice told her to back down. She apologized and he continued.

"You ever been to Elysium?"

The torus in the sky? Never. Long before she was born, the station had been hovering above earth's atmosphere. She learned everything about it and the consequences that followed its creation—including the world's decline—during her years of schooling. At one point, her parents wanted to believe they could save their funds to earn themselves a home on Elysium's lush grounds, but they understood they would never live to see the day. Even she didn't have any dreams of reaching the station. Reserved for the wealthy and those in power, Elysium sat out of reach.

"Stupid question. No you haven't." Kruger brushed the can to the floor and took another puff of the cigarette. "You've heard of the CCB, yeah?"

"No." If she had to guess, the acronym must refer to some elite organization. Maybe the public on Earth wasn't aware of what it was either.

"Not gonna waste my time explaining it to you." He jabbed his chest with his thumb. "But I'm a sleeper agent. Mercenary, if you prefer the old stuff."

This explained the hackers he had taken care of back in the warehouse, and Mike, who, despite giving Kruger the information he had so badly wanted, wound up dead and bleeding out in the tub. Taking care of targets that got in his way, Kruger was paid to kill, to be an animal. So her initial first impression wasn't far off; he worked as a bodyguard of sorts. Now this answered the others she had ready for him. Missions took him away from home, sending him wherever to take care of whatever nasty business stood in the CCB's way. Ultimately, Kruger was nothing more than an attack dog, and if he saw fit, then anything and everything could be gnashed between his teeth.

"You're lookin' a little pale there," he chuckled. "Don't let me scare you."

The toothy grin spreading across his face did not put her at ease. She couldn't tell when he was being humorous or just trying to fuck with her head.

"C'mon, ask me another." He leaned forward, as if genuinely interested.

"Where are you from?"

Kruger smirked. "The accent's been drivin' you crazy, hasn't it?"

"No, I like it." The words left her lips before she had time to stop it.

He paused, the rim of his second beer resting on his lips. "Is that so." His eyes left hers, looking off to another corner of the house as if in thought. Surely this would be used as blackmail against her, an advantage to keep her right where he wanted her.

"From South Africa. You know where that is?"

"Yes."

"Heard of Joburg?" When she gave him a puzzled stare, he rolled his eyes and put on a mocking tone, as if he thought she was dense for not catching on. "Sorry, Johannesburg?"

She nodded, remembering old history books mentioning the location and the crime wave that eventually overtook it.

"Me and my boys were practically born in the bush. I've seen my fair share of shit. Little girls like you wouldn't last out there, ya know."

Olivia nodded.

"How old do you think I am?"

If working for the CCB and in turn working for Elysium, he had to be kept alive, kept healthy and available. The powerful and wealthy had access to technology that earth wasn't allowed to have. Here there were still hospitals, overcrowded with the sick and injured, but on Elysium, the medbays kept its citizens alive and in perfect condition. In order to keep Kruger in action, they would have to keep him preserved through time.

"I'm not sure."

"Guess."

"...At least 100."

"Good girl," he finished off the second can.

Olivia began putting the pieces of Kruger together. For decades he's been used as a weapon, hunting and killing as he pleased and paid to do it, no less. Whoever held his leash had no consideration for his reckless behavior and its effect on others. If anyone up there were to catch word of Olivia, they would laugh and call her a plaything to keep him occupied while he waited on his chain. She breathed deep, tempted to reach across the table and snatch one of the beers for herself. She hated the taste, but God if she didn't feel like some alcohol may help right now.

"Anything else?" He snatched the plastic rings around the rack of beer and stuffed the cigarettes in the waistband of his shorts.

"No," she heard her voice squeak. "That's it."

"Not so hard now, was it? Ole Kruger's not such a bad guy, eh?" He spoke with a new cigarette between his lips.

Ignorance is bliss, she thought bitterly. No, she knew he was fully aware of his actions, and that he reveled in how this all made her head spin.

"C'mere."

Olivia rose from her chair to stand before him. With her heels still on her feet, she stood at Kruger's throat, whereas normally she would be face to face with his furred chest.

Without a word he tugged the collar to her top aside, running his thumb over and under the silk strap of her black bra. Her skin instantly blushed across her chest and under his touch. He seemed lost in thought, and Olivia could not think of anything to get him away, not that she wanted that. Despite his ill-treatment of her and having watched him cut a man's throat, she could not deny that she desperately wanted Kruger. She liked to consider herself a woman of morals, but his mere existence threw it all out the window without a second thought.

"They touch you when you're wearing this, don't they?" He spoke low, his voice arousing her.

She considered the few men at the Black Cat who had given her a pat as she would walk away. She figured any man would do this, drunk or not. "Yeah."

"Hm. You don't like it, do you?"

"I can't stand it."

"Why's that?"

' _Because it's not you,'_  she thought. Even after today's revelations she still craved him. Olivia raised her eyes to his. His smug smile wanted to hear her say it, but she wouldn't give him that, not yet.

"I don't want people touching me."

At that, he slid his hand up the back of her neck, brushing through the fine red hairs. The pure heat that radiated from his touch alone made her wet. Of all the men in the world, it had to be him. All the images of her dreams and fantasies of him flashed in the back of her mind.

"I don't think that's true."

His hand slipped away and he made for the rooftop, beers still swinging at his side.

As soon as his shadow disappeared, she ran for the bathroom, throwing open the door. Ignoring the lingering smell of bleach and soap, she locked herself inside and ran her hands through her hair. _'Fuck fuck fuck.'_ Olivia let go of the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding and ran her fingertips over the ghost of his touch. Her body responded with a surge of shivers.

Studying over herself in the cracked mirror, she noticed the top buttons of her lavender blouse were unfastened, exposing the curve of her breasts and the deep plunge of cleavage that disappeared under the fabric. She must have looked like an offering, with pale, blushing flesh just a few quick tears away. She would have allowed him to have her right then and there, and he fucking knew it.


	8. Chapter 8

Night shifts naturally brought in the rowdy crowd, like the men coming out of work and the women who would hang around the bar in hopes of catching some attention. As luck would have it, Olivia was far from alone in terms of coworkers. Other young ladies (more skilled in strutting in the uniform heels) passed by with trays of booze, and unlike her, would smile at their tables whenever they received a compliment or a tip. Olivia figured she could earn more if she played along with the men and their "fun", but that happened to be easier said than done.

Markus filled her tray with 5 bottles of some cheap beer and made small talk. If anyone here knew how much she couldn't stand the evening swarm, he was the man. Olivia learned on her first day of work that Markus didn't really own the place, but rather served as manager while the real proprietor sat in some office at another chain. So there was no issue with her series of complaints.

As she weaved through tables, she wondered how her parents were faring without her. They wouldn't be too proud to hear about their daughter working as a server in some sleazy club, but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt. And if they only knew of the man she wanted to have bed her... She would find herself forced to sit in the front pews of the little white church, asking God to forgive her for her sins.

_'The perks of being an adult,'_  she thought.  _'Not having family watch your every move. Nah, now you just have some assassin doing that.'_  The voice turned on her, and she shook her head to send it away.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. She glanced across the room as the double doors opened, allowing Kruger to slink inside. Their eyes met briefly, and her insides felt like liquid fire. What was he doing here?

_'What do you think?'_

Making her way back to the bar for another table's round, she managed to catch the exchange between Markus and the merc.

"—here to collect what you promised me, boet."

"The girls are in the back. One of 'em will be happy to take care of you."

It wouldn't be Kruger if he didn't mean to stroll past Olivia with a teasing grin before disappearing through the doors exclusively for those who wanted more than a dance. Then she remembered his remark when he accepted her offer. Markus must have guaranteed him a free private session with one of the girls.

"Did you know he was going to be here tonight?" Markus asked.

"No," she swallowed, collecting several beers. She couldn't help but slam them onto her tray with a tight-lipped scowl.

The bartender noted the sudden switch in her attitude. "You okay?"

"Peachy," and with a sudden surge of twisted jealousy, Olivia stormed across the room. Normally she could control her frustrations, but not tonight, not after the way he had touched her just the other day. If she concentrated hard enough, she could still feel the warmth of his hand wrapping around the back of her neck. It was terrifying to think of how he was the type of man who could have easily snapped her neck, but just as arousing to think of how he could just as well force her to her knees.

When Markus alerted her to the end of her shift, she collected her tips – she kept them stacked away safely behind the counter whenever she returned for more drinks – and made for the back where her change of shoes waited for her in a cubby. A few dancers sat along a bench, having a smoke on their break. One of them, a small girl with a curvy, round figure of her own, spoke up above the muffled bass of the speakers.

"I've never had him before," she tapped her cigarette over an ashtray before taking another huff.

"I have. He's got a monster dick, but he's kinda scary." Another girl piped up. Olivia didn't mean to eavesdrop, but anyone would after hearing a sentence like that.

"His beard's a hot mess, that's for sure."

They were talking about Kruger. It had to be him. And if that was true, then that woman's comment... Olivia bit her lip and focused on tossing her heels into her messenger bag. Even if she had seen him naked that one morning, she hadn't bothered to look. Oh she had been tempted, but the embarrassment in her forced her to turn away.

_'Stop picturing it, you slut puppy.'_ But she couldn't help it.

* * *

When Olivia came home, she heard laughter and Kruger's voice leading the commotion. Not wanting to interrupt, she slipped through the crack she made big enough for her to squeeze by and kept quiet as she passed by Drake and Crowe, who were taking up nearly the entire couch. Kruger didn't seem to notice her, or at least pretended she wasn't there. She dropped her bag on the table and made for the kitchen, listening in to their conversation about Kruger's time at the Black Cat this evening.

"So while she's got her mouth on me, I go and call her by the wrong name. And they don't like that...They expect you to treat them something special."

The men laughed, probably having experienced the same before. "What'd you call her?"

Kruger paused, seeming to answer a bit too late to continue feeling comfortable with the conversation. "Not important."

Olivia came around the corner, and instantly she locked onto the two men's faces as they looked to Kruger in disappointment and then to the little woman with what looked like understanding. She chose not to think about why.

"What do you want?" Kruger didn't bother turning to face her, and instead drummed his fingers on the neck of his bottle.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I'm about to make myself a drink. Thought I should ask if anyone else wanted something."

Drake and Crowe brightened up, but before they could chip in, their boss turned in his chair and stared up at Olivia with a raised brow. "Thought you didn't drink."

She felt surprised to hear he remembered their exchange the night he brought her home. "I said I don't care for beer. Never said I didn't drink."

The corner of his mouth twitched before he broke out into a grin. "Yeah, make us all a drink then."

The men resumed their talk while she cleaned the glasses in the sink and reached into the back of the freezer for the icebox. Her first drink had been something fruity, and while she held a preference for it, all Kruger had on tap was a label-less bottle of rum and a countless supply of beer. She had a soda to mix with hers, but she figured they would rather have the alcohol straight up. Fixing their glasses on a plate, she balanced the drinks in one hand and brought in the remainder of the rum in the other.

"Don't expect a tip out of us," Kruger immediately reached for a glass while shooting his men a good-humored dirty look. "Gentlemen first, boys."

"Then no one's touching those drinks, boss."

Olivia took a seat on the floor, cross-legged and taking generous sips while the three of them laughed like hyenas; an appropriate comparison. They talked over their days, indulging one another with memories from missions passed (some of which Olivia actually tuned in to hear; she felt her gut twist at the story Crowe recounted of their slaughtering a group of an ex-military rogues who were destroying some of Elysium's harvesting crops here on Earth) before diving straight into their sexual conquests. Not particularly in the mood to hear anything related to other women sleeping with Kruger, she picked herself up and made for the bathroom, grabbing a shirt and cotton shorts on the way. She stumbled just a bit, now having 4 glasses worth of rum in her, two of which were nothing but since her can of soda had gone into the others. She had found herself drunk one time before, but while she was safely tucked away in her first Los Angeles apartment. It would probably be a dangerous idea to be a little intoxicated around these men, but at least she still had her wits about her.

She shut them out, running the sink's faucet for effect. Right now she wanted nothing more than to slip out of the uniform and into her pajamas. But with the boys still around, she wouldn't be free to throw off the bra just yet. Besides, she had noticed Kruger's eyes on her as he sat across from her with an advantage angle down her blouse. No need to spoil the fun.

As soon as she stepped from the door, she felt everyone's eyes lock onto her.

"Think you ruined Drakey's fun," Kruger spoke up, still eying her up in the giant t-shirt that reached her knees. "He's a bit of a thigh man and those shorts of yours were raisin' somethin'."

"Fuck off, man," the other grumbled, chewing on the ice from his drink.

"Sorry," she didn't mean to sound so genuine in her apology. "I just wanted to be comfortable."

Olivia claimed her spot along the floor, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. She did only have 4 glasses, right? Fuck, suddenly she couldn't remember.

"Careful there," the bearded merc laughed at her near tumble. Of course he would find this amusing. "That's what you get for drinkin' all my booze."

Well, that answered the mystery of how much alcohol she had in her system.

Kruger left the room, snatching the empty bottle and disappearing into the kitchen.

"He's not such a bad guy," Crowe spoke up after a minute of silence.

Olivia scoffed and laughed at once, a strange sound. "Yeah, I bet."

"He's a bastard for sure, though," Drake received an elbow to the bicep for that remark. "But we all are."

"I like you guys," she smiled. And she wasn't lying. This had been their fourth encounter, and after each one, she began to warm up to the two. They didn't tease her like their boss, though they did join in on his nasty behavior from time to time. But after she guessed what had to be a lifetime working as Kruger's underlings, it only figured they would be scoundrels themselves. Overall, they were okay.

They looked to one another, not sure how to take the statement. "You're pretty all right yourself, 'Livia." Drake gave her a respectful nod, mirrored by Crowe.

What happened next was not expected by anyone. Olivia stood, a little wobbly on her legs, and stepped over to Drake's end of the couch, leaning down to hug the man around his neck. The smell of cigarette smoke and sweat was all over him. "Thanks," she smiled before giving his temple a kiss.

Olivia felt completely aware of her actions, and she didn't think too much of it. Maybe it was the alcohol mixed with her kindly attitude, but giving him a friendly peck felt just like giving a hug to a friend. Nothing felt wrong, and she didn't regret it for a second.

But as she straightened up and looked across the room, she might as well have felt every ounce of the regret now gnawing at her insides.

Kruger stood in the doorway of the den, beer in hand. Crowe was desperately trying to stifle his need to laugh at the scene, while Drake looked away out of what she could only guess as feigning innocence. The look on Kruger's face appeared unreadable, but she could feel some sort of anger radiating from him. But what did he care?

"Think it's time for you to get some sleep." He kept his eyes on her as he took his seat. Olivia did not dare to disobey an order like that, especially in a dangerous tone. Even as she walked away to her quilt in the corner of the room, the intensity of his stare lingered. She had to roll over onto her side just to escape it.

"To be fair, boss, I think that was the first time in years Drake's gotten some attention around that mug of his."

"Shut up, you fuck," she heard Kruger snap before the alcohol urged her to sleep.

* * *

During the night, Olivia awoke and stared out into the dark. After a moment or two, her sight adjusted to the room. The black sheet draping over the window blocked the light of the moon, but a sliver of white light caught the flecks of dust. The entire room was quiet, save for the faint sound of snoring and dogs barking a few blocks away. She lifted her head from the pillow and found Kruger still in his chair, his body slumped and a bottle barely hanging in his grip. Drake and Crowe were gone.

Olivia wanted to desperately take this opportunity to inspect Kruger properly without him questioning her as to why. However, if she had to guess, his military training left him with the ability to wake at the sound of a pin drop. So she settled for watching him from her makeshift bed, lying on her stomach and pressing her cheek into her pillow. The faint light emphasized the cut of his cheekbones and the ash-gray edges of his beard. The grafts below his eyes seemed to glow alive, and she wondered if the ones on his chest and collar would do the same if he were bare.

In this quiet moment, Olivia saw the handsome rogue she had come to lust for. Even now she could feel her pussy throbbing with a hungry need for him. She always knew she had a thing for the dangerous ones, but this was ridiculous. If she wanted, she could reach down and relieve the ache, but she would not risk the chance of being caught. She may want Kruger, desperately, but even she knew she was not ready for him. Rolling over to stare at the wall, she mumbled under her breath, "You scare the hell out of me," and could have sworn she heard his own voice reply, "Good."


	9. Chapter 9

Olivia considered the odd coincidence of being both asleep and aware of her surroundings. Her body urged her to lie still beneath the thin fleece blanket, but her mind raced with the sounds of Kruger's grating voice and the whispered talk of his men. The conversation didn't quite register yet, but whatever it was didn't concern her. When she groaned, the voices stopped, but only for a moment. She blinked through the morning light and pulled the blanket tighter. No, she wasn't ready yet. Let her lie along the floor, please.

When the sound of heavy boots came her way, she knew her silent prayers for rest would go unanswered. The blanket was tugged out of her grip and thrown away. Olivia instinctively curled her body, tucking her knees into her abdomen.

"Me and my boys are hungry," Kruger knelt by her head and surprised her by running his hand over her hair. "Time to wake up."

"Okay, okay..." she attempted to shrug away from his touch, but instead only accomplished nuzzling into his palm. Her body reacted accordingly as she rubbed her thighs and felt her nipples peak through the thin cotton shirt. Her morning-muddled thoughts didn't recognize the sensations until he grinned and stepped away, returning to the conversation at hand with Drake and Crowe.

Olivia had no shift to report in for today, thankfully. Once the men would leave, she planned to crawl back into bed and find sleep once more. Maybe even take a chance and lie in his own bed, just to appease her curiosity. But maybe not, since she imagined an animal like him would be able to catch her scent, especially if she were to rub against the sheets and bury her face in his pillow.

She presented the men with plates of some tasteless grits and scrambled eggs.

"What, no meat?" Kruger piped up, as if he spoke in disappointment for everyone at the table, despite the other two eating their meals with gusto. "We're growing boys, ya know. Well, two of 'em anyway."

"There's nothing in the fridge," she said, replenishing their mugs of coffee. "I'm not at work today, so I'll go to the market."

He grunted his approval and finally dug into his meal.

Something in Olivia took pride in seeing her cooking being enjoyed. Back home, her mother always took control of the cookery when it came to preparing meals. When she began to teach her the way around the kitchen, her excuse for learning had been typical. "One day you're going to be cooking for someone else, at least I hope so," quickly followed by Olivia's "I don't plan on it."

She watched them head for the outskirts of town from the rooftop. Kruger had mentioned he would likely be gone for a day or two at least, but he failed to say where. She attributed that to the organization that tugged at his leash - hush-hush mission that he would not be allowed to discuss. But Kruger truly didn't seem like the kind of man to care whether or not secrets slipped. But for what reason would he ever disclose anything to her? Come to think of it, why should she care where he's based? Yes, she would lose her so to speak "landlord" if anything went awry, but the unsettling clench deep in her chest pegged more worrisome questions.

' _No woman wants a dead soldier,'_  her thoughts proposed.  _'_ _Starting to become attached?'_

Olivia shook her head no as if she were answering someone who wasn't there.

' _We don't necessarily get to pick what the heart wants, sweetheart.'_

She threw down the broom, fists clenching at her sides. If only she had something to target her frustration at. She began to snatch the laundry from the clothesline and twisted a bundle of sheets in her hands. They would do.

* * *

The rainforest was no place for a man like Kruger. Having been raised in the dry summers of his homeland and becoming fond of the Los Angeles heat, the humidity around him seemed too thick to breathe. Everything on him felt weighed down by the moisture of the air, and if it weren't for the constant threat of buzzing disease-carrying insects, he would be cutting through the dense greeneries naked. His men seemed to agree as they expressed their protests from behind.

"Something just bit me," Drake swatted at his thigh, trying to calm the sudden prickling sensation.

Crowe laughed at his friend's misfortune. "At least something's willing to touch ya."

"Think you're forgetting something, boet. Got myself a kiss last night."

"And  _you're_ forgettin' she was drunk off her ass." Kruger chimed in, putting an end to the pointless chatter.

The bearded merc was the first to spot the shack where they would make camp. Stationed by the CCB and kept equipped with enough rations to last a few days: Lord knows how long the hovel had been standing. Kruger himself was familiar with it, thanks to an assignment years before he met his boys. Even if the shack arranged room for at least a squadron of four, he would fix a place for himself and make the other two take the other space. They would take turns keeping watch, rest, and then venture off on foot in a few hours.

"What are we even doing here?" Crowe threw down his pack and looked to the canopy overhead. "Thought you said the exchange already took place?"

"I did," Kruger waved for Drake to quickly survey the outskirts of camp. "And it did."

"And?"

"And they're expecting their boys to show up for the cargo. Only they'll be getting us instead," their leader grinned, relaying the details as soon as Drake claimed the closure safe.

Mike hadn't lied when he revealed the plan of exchange between the dealer's and their distributors. When Kruger reported the newly gathered information, he had been cleared for further action, which included taking out whoever he could get his hands on. He had managed to leave the parking deck alive, but he couldn't say the same for the other 9. Before snapping the neck of the last man standing, he collected all that he needed and sent another report. The next step sent his team to Guyana, where they now sat around a fire.

The drug ring was nothing new to the CCB's (and in turn Elysium's) list of troubles. Drugs were not an issue most of the time, especially since many of their soldiers enjoyed the unrestricted use of the substances the CCB provided for their hard work. Purely recreational. The problem lay in the cartels. This group in particular were making themselves famous for smuggling information out of the torus, however that may be. The authorities of Elysium were desperately trying to keep their composure during their embarrassment of being unable to handle the issue. So far, the citizens were none the wiser, and they wanted it kept that way, or else there would be a rush of reports of complaints and worry over the safety they were guaranteed. Always at the ready to deal with the threats of Earth, the CCB took it upon themselves to send squadrons into any potential environment where the cartel made their stops. Luckily they weren't always able to properly cover their tracks, which left just enough of an opening to pinpoint a location and deploy a team as soon as possible.

Kruger sent Drake and Crowe inside, while he would take watch for the first shift. He threw another log on their fire and took a seat back against the nearest tree. At night the jungle seemed to breathe, and the weight of the humidity lifted. Scratching at his beard, he stared into the fire. He would stay up for a few hours, then kick Crowe awake to cover him. For a while he sat back and stared up to study the stars peeking through the thick canopy. With civilization nowhere to be found, the stars shone bright. His peaceful watch was interrupted by a steady bout of bear-like snoring from inside the shack. Kruger made for the far side of camp, shoving himself under the shadow of a thick huasai. The promise of a long night lay ahead of him, but at least there was the anticipation of the early morning's hunt.

* * *

Back at home, Olivia stood at the foot of Kruger's bed, taking in the disheveled mess and worn pillow. There was a noticeable dent where he laid his head every night, and she made a mental note to use her next collection of tips to impress him with a new one. She pushed her sweats down her legs and climbed onto the bed, falling back to lie in the unmade sheets. She squeaked as a spring poking through the mattress nicked her thigh. It made sense that he could bring himself to sleep on this bed every night, since he was weathered and hard muscle, unlike her soft physique. After a bit of squirming, she found a soft spot (she assumed it was where he slept) and curled onto her side, nuzzling into the pillow. Immediately she thought of the smell of the dusty city, along with the thick scent of tobacco, but there was something else. She searched her mind for a visual match, and despite coming up with nothing, she smiled.

' _Maybe I am becoming attached.'_

Another part of her replied with a childish  _'I told you so'_  that stung just a bit.

Olivia gave the pillow a squeeze, shutting her eyes tight and breathing in, slow and steady. She wondered if in another life she would be lying in bed as Kruger's woman. She excluded 'under different circumstances', since no matter what, Kruger would always be the frightful beast she'd come to know. And while being fearful of him kept her at a safe distance, he held magnetism over her. This man would be dangerous to her health if she continued to indulge her attachment.

And yet, with him in mind, she rolled onto her back, raising her knees and parting her thighs. How long had it been since she last had the chance to masturbate? Olivia was a needy woman, but ever since moving in, she had been too afraid to risk the chance of him catching her. Even in the middle of the night, she refused to slip her hand beneath the covers in fear that the slick sound of her pussy would draw his attention. But now, here in his bed, she felt ready to give in and seize the moment. She nestled deeper into the dip of the mattress and squeezed her thighs, momentarily relieving the ache. She let go of a shaky breath and urged her body to relax. No matter if Kruger was miles away, she couldn't shake the fear that at any moment he would storm through the door. So she stared at the bedroom's doorway, hand slipping up her t-shirt, and waited, but nothing came.

With her heart pounding heavily in her ears, Olivia pushed her hand down to the soft space between her legs, fingertips pressing over her cotton-covered clit. Her body rolled in response. She hadn't expected the response to be so overwhelming. Blocking out the sounds of the nightlife just outside, she continued to rub circles around the nub, hips lifting from the mattress whenever she found a particularly sensitive spot. It didn't take long for her thoughts to turn to Kruger. Her mind's eye considered his tan, warm skin, taut over hardened muscle. The fantasy placed him in the sunlight of the rooftop, where he stood over his grill and allowed the heat of the flames to lick at his abdomen. Her hand nudged her panties aside, where her fingers now ran up and down her slit in slow strokes. Meanwhile, the image of Kruger threw back a swig of beer, the sweat of the chilled bottle hissing as it dripped onto his collar.

Suddenly her breathing quickened, and the hand that had been resting beneath the thin cotton of her shirt now curved over her breast. Her tits had always been one of her more sensitive and provocative features, and with her fingers softly kneading, the projection of Kruger now stood at the foot of the bed, watching and waiting with interest. Just to be sure, she glanced up only to find no one there.

' _It's like you're just asking for him to be here,'_ her thoughts teased. They were right of course.

"Shut up."

Olivia focused her attention on her clit once more, rubbing the pad of her fingertip in quick rounds. The last thing she needed were internal voices chastising her.

While she thumbed over her nipple, the hand playing down below was busy testing the slick warmth. Easing her fingers between the lips of her pussy, she thought of Kruger kneeling along the bed, just between her spread legs, making the mattress dip beneath them. The streetlamp just outside the window cast shadows across his body, hiding not only his eyes, but also the narrow dip of his waist and his pelvis, where she hoped there was an erect cock. When had this Kruger undressed? A moment ago, before her fingers were soaked, he had been dressed from head to toe in his fatigues.

"F-Fuck," Olivia whined at the tightness building around her touch.

The fantasy of Kruger loomed over her trembling figure, refusing to touch or even speak to her. He felt so close, so real, that she could smell the dust of the earth on his skin and the sunlight in his hair. Why wouldn't he touch her? She should be able to control this imaginary Kruger, force him to paw at her round hips, bite at her throat, anything. Hell, she should be able to force him on bended knee and beg for her pussy. But even as an illusion he lived to tease her, bringing her closer and closer into his dark corner.

At the imagined feeling of his breathing against her blushing skin, Olivia arched from the sheets, toes curled and nipples erect as her climax pushed her over the edge. Her whimpering echoed across the room and into the rest of the apartment. The sound of the night seemed muffled as she stretched across the bed and calmed her heart. Her eyes adjusted to the dark once more before she rolled onto her front, sighing with relief into his pillow. Olivia wasn't used to being this brazen, and she knew that there existed a chance that Kruger would know of her masturbating in his bed. More beast than man, something told her he would be able to catch her scent and add this evening to the evidence of her lust. Presently, she couldn't care less, and fell into dreamless sleep with a contented smile.

* * *

Olivia failed to notice she wasn't alone until the heavy sound of a belt hit the floor. Her body responded, quivering, while she desperately tried to claw her way through the haze of sleep.

"Don't have to leave on my account, eh?" she heard Kruger's voice rumble somewhere close by. "I'd enjoy the company."

She rolled onto her side, ignoring the way the sheets clung and twisted with her exposed legs. Through her tousled hair she found the mercenary at her bedside, undressing and smiling to himself. Her mind tried to find an excuse for him to be back from his mission so early.

"Always wanted to come home to a woman in my bed. Congratulations," he flashed a toothy grin. The honest mirth in his voice felt odd. "You're the first."

Olivia pulled herself from the bed, snatching up her sweats still pooled at the foot of the bed. Her hands were shaking as she threw the sheets about the bed. "I'm so sorry—"

"Don't bother," his tone shifted, all traces of amusement nowhere to be found. Maybe he was disappointed in her refusal to join. "I need the rest." He was down to his trousers now. She didn't plan on lingering a moment longer to see much more.

She left him to sleep while she threw herself onto the couch, her body feeling tight and upset with her for pushing herself from her own slumber so quickly.

He couldn't have been gone for less than 24 hours. Either they had failed, or they truly were the skilled hunters they more than likely claimed to be. Either way, he was home, safe, and Olivia quietly savored the flutter of satisfaction in her chest.


	10. Chapter 10

Kruger would have to make due without breakfast whenever he woke, but as a grown man (100 years or older at that), he would have spent many years cooking his own meals. Besides, Olivia didn't think it would kill him to fend for himself for once. For now, she had to get to work.

From behind the bar, Olivia readied an order of drinks. Normally she would be the one waiting tables and filling orders, but Markus had just received a phone call, and she offered to cover while he stepped away. Another waitress took the tray and passed around the beers while the redhead reached under the counter for her bottled water. Markus stood a few feet away, hunched over a notepad, back turned as if to tune out the dance music playing over the speakers. Probably business, if she had to guess. Her boss never spoke much about the club's owner, or of himself for that matter. She assumed he kept professional affairs out of his day-to-day shifts, and she couldn't blame him. But how many corporate concerns could a little strip club have?

Suddenly Markus spoke up from the corner, his voice loud as he snapped. He appeared to be cut off by the other end of the line. Running a hand over his buzz cut, he stood to his full height and waited. Whatever he was dealing with was none of her concern, and she turned away just before he slammed the phone and returned to her side.

"Everything okay?" Olivia took another swig of her bottle and looked to the bartender with mild concern.

"I hate dealing with people." With his jaw tight, she figured whatever eating at him would be doing so for the rest of the day.

"And yet here you are," she laughed and gestured to the polished, black faux granite counter.

That at least got a snort out of him. "Here I am."

"Would you rather be somewhere else?"

"You have no idea." He was then slipped another order for drinks and gathered a few glasses. "I think we all would."

"I don't know..." Olivia started, hopping down from her stool. "I don't mind it so much anymore."

"Don't tell me you're starting to like living with him."

"Well, no, but..." Honestly, she had no idea how to finish that thought, and from the look on the bartender's face, he wouldn't buy whatever bullshit she may come up with.

Not in the mood to acknowledge the skepticism slipping across his face, Olivia spun on her heels and snatched the rag from her back pocket to clean tables. She knew that her silence was more than enough of an answer for him, and if she didn't learn to keep her mouth shut and figure out her thoughts toward Kruger, she would have to deal with more ribbing. What would it matter to anyone if she did learn to care for his company? She had no close friends, no family nearby to answer to, and she did not consider herself close to her coworkers. If she chose to become attached to Kruger, let alone sleep with him, it wouldn't be anyone's concern but her own.

For the rest of the day she managed to avoid Markus, just in case he felt the need to bring up their earlier conversation. But now, at the end of her shift, she knew she would have to approach him in order to sign out and buy the case of drinks she had kept under the register just for her.

"Those for you?" He asked, returning her change.

"I don't think he fancies himself as the lemonade and liquor type."

"I wouldn't put it past him. Alcohol is alcohol."

"Right. See you Thursday."

* * *

Olivia pressed the open bottle between her breasts and tried to hold tight to the case of drinks while she searched her pockets for her key. No doubt Kruger would be home, but it was clear he wasn't the type to leave the door open for company. She slipped in, immediately kicking off the heels and loosening another button on her uniform. Funny enough, the club didn't mind the hem of the black denim shorts hugging the dip of their waitress' asses, but they maintained a one-button rule on their lavender blouses. Back in her old apartment, she would strip as soon as she walked through the door, ready to toss the bra and lounge comfortably. Here, even if this was her home now, she would have to make due with a popped button or two until it was time for bed.

The drinks were put away before she made her way up to the rooftop. The setting sun cast Kruger's shadow from the far corner where he stood over the smoking grill. Olivia stepped over shards of broken glass and watched as they caught the light, sending slivers of amber rays through the dusty air.

When she approached him, he looked up from the charring meat and immediately eyed her drink. "None for me?"

Sitting on a stack of crates she raised the drink to the sun, studying the red coloring. "It's vodka and strawberry lemonade. Didn't think you'd be interested."

He sneered, turning the rack of ribs.

"Suit yourself." _'More for me.'_

Kruger seemed to deem the meat ready and jabbed through the rack with his blade. Olivia didn't pretend to know much about weapons, but she felt she had seen a sword like that before, years ago in some old samurai picture. An unusual choice, especially for a mercenary from the South African bush, but somehow it seemed to fit. She couldn't see him with pistols, but perhaps maybe a shotgun...

"How'd the mission go?" She asked. The weapon must have triggered her memory.

The question seemed to catch him off-guard, but he shot back with one of his own. "When've you been concerned about my work?"

"I'm just curious."

He grinned through the smoke still hissing off the grill, a wicked sight. She thought back to the night they met, and how the dark of his eyes burned like testimony he had been born of Hellfire. How much longer until he'd exchange the sword for a pitchfork? "Fair enough. Went well. But I can't be goin' and revealing any details to you now, can I?" He clucked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head.

Well, she supposed that was good enough. "I guess not. At least you're safe, right?" She took another sip, licking her lips of the artificial flavor.

"Watch it there. Might make a man think he's been missed."

Olivia felt a knot rise in her chest, and instead of snapping back with some half-assed reply, she downed the rest of the drink and stared into the flame of the grill. She had missed him for some reason or another, one that she hadn't quite thought of yet.

When she didn't respond, Kruger's smirk fell. "My boys will be stoppin' by soon. Make yourself scarce."

She looked up from her bottle, squinting into the sun to stare up at him. "Why?"

The look he gave implied she knew exactly what for. Then it dawned on her; Drake. Kruger reminded her of a sitcom father who refused to allow his daughter date the boy next door. Not that she wanted anything to do with the other man.

With realization flashing in her eyes, she moved in a huff towards the latch that lead down the rickety flight of stairs. "Get over yourself," she hissed under her breath. She couldn't tell what bothered her more—Kruger suspecting anything between her and Drake, or his skirting around his odd relationship with her.

With two quick steps Kruger seized her arm, snatching her back and keeping her locked flush into his chest. She recoiled at the shock of pain shooting from under his grip. The feel of the untrimmed scruff of his beard grazed her cheek as he spoke along the shell of her ear.

"Watch it with the backsass, eh?" he scolded and reached up to cup her jaw, forcing her to look up into the temper in his eyes, unable to squirm away. With her breasts flush to his chest, she felt a spike of arousal coiling in her abdomen, and she silently hoped it didn't show. But even if he noticed, his ire pushed it aside. She could tell he was restricting himself somewhat, since his locked jaw shook with suppressed anger. "Be grateful you're still here," he breathed hotly against her cheek. Whether that meant living under his roof or living at all she couldn't tell, but the threat was still real. No matter what feelings he stirred inside her, he would always be frightening.

She managed to nod before the sound of the latch being thrown open broke the tension. Kruger released his hold and she stumbled back, both turning to face Drake and Crowe. For once they were dressed casually, trading in their fatigues for t-shirts and cargo slacks. They seemed to notice something was amiss, but only Drake was brave enough to ask.

"We interrupting something?" He looked from his boss to the redhead.

"Nah, Drakey." Kruger's grimace became a toothy grin. "C'mere and join me, boets."

The two paid Olivia no mind as she pushed her way by to scurry down the stairs, slamming the latch just for good measure. At the lingering sensation of his lips brushing her skin, she shuddered and gave her cheek a swat, trading in the warm blush for a stimulating sting. She grabbed herself another drink before throwing a pair of clean clothes over her shoulder. She'd take a bath and fix her own dinner. Hopefully the men would stay on the roof for the rest of the evening.

Throwing her uniform and bra into the sink, she bent over the tub to adjust the warm water filling the basin. Luckily the smell of bleach had worn thin, now replaced with the strange combination of her soap and Kruger's musk. She slipped her panties down her thighs, but not before noticing the bit of soaked cotton. Shit. They were thrown aside while she prayed that hadn't come from his earlier aggression. She wouldn't be surprised if it had. Olivia was no advocate of sexual violence by any means, but for as long as she had known her own personal tastes, something about watching a man come alive with anger had always gotten her off. And with Kruger as a hardened, hairy temperamental furnace, she'd be creaming her panties whenever he'd be nearby.

Once the surface of the water stilled with steam, she eased herself in until the bathwater circled her shoulders. She hadn't treated herself to a bath since she left home, and while it felt odd that Kruger's tub would be the first to break that dry spell, at least she had the opportunity to find some peace. Drawing the curtain, she allowed herself to lie back and rest.

Another opportunity for him to snap her neck and he hadn't taken it. He could have just as easily given her neck a quick crack and be done with the nuisance of her company. But what reason did he have to harm her? She knew no company secrets, wasn't a threat to his work, and provided him with most of her pay. And if he ever decided to take her to bed, then all he would have to do is ask. Most men would take advantage of having a woman so accessible and would make advances, but not him. Sure, Kruger seemed to enjoy being coy with her and knew well enough that he baited Olivia with crooked smiles and playful offers, but he never once made a move to push himself on her; never groped or pawed when he had the perfect opportunity to.

_'He's not as interested as you want him to be,'_  she mused bitterly.

"Hm. Probably not." Before she could pout, she reached for her dollar bin body wash and began to lather her skin.

_'Disappointed?'_

_'Yeah, I guess.'_ She surprised herself when she admitted it so easily.  _'I'm not the type you make fuck buddies with.'_

Relaxing back along the tile of the wall, she mulled over her round body. She knew her figure was part of her own fault, thanks to her incorrigible sweet tooth. Some days she didn't mind how the dip of her waist rounded into her middle and hips, but other days she wanted to claw at the stretch marks and hide away. Luckily she recently learned to come to appreciate her figure, probably due to being away from home. It never helped when her mother poked and prodded at her, or whenever her grandmother teased her for her soft stomach. It honestly hadn't taken long to realize her family had been the ones holding her back from helping herself. But even now, despite her progress, she grew scared of how Kruger saw her.

"Lions don't eat marshmallows," she mumbled to herself, smiling drowsily at the silly idea.

"Never thought you the type to talk to yourself." She heard Kruger speak up from behind the curtain, the humor in his voice mocking her.

Instantly Olivia sat up, tucking her knees tight to her chest out of instinct. "What do you want?" She flinched as her voice climbed an octave higher in her shock.

"You want a list?" His shadow moved across the curtain as he made to lean along the wall. The width of his shoulders in silhouette reminded her just how fearsome he was, and if she wanted to get past him and out of this bathroom, she wouldn't be able to dash by his brute strength. "You should really lock the door."

She thought she had, but her memory didn't recall the sharp click of the lock. "You knew I was in here..."

"Yup."

Olivia felt the frustration of the situation welling in her chest, but took a deep breath and thought over her choice of words.

"Why are you in here?"

"Would you believe I wanted some company?"

"...Isn't that what they were here for?"

"The boys took off. You've been in here for a while, ya know."

No, she didn't know. She stretched her neck to peek out of the dirty window that overlooked the neighboring rooftops. The night sky crept over Los Angeles and reached for the far outskirts of the city limits. She had been in the bath for longer than she realized.

"Oh."

"Mmhm. Thought you may have offed yourself," she heard him yawn.

"Not that it would really matter to you," Olivia scoffed, still hugging her knees. The unnerving silence that followed made her uneasy, so she added quickly, "Can you go?"

"What's 'at?" He asked as if he hadn't heard her.

"I want to get out soon."

"Nothing's stoppin' you." She could practically hear him grin.

It felt like arguing with a child; a child trapped in the weathered, hairy body of a killer. She breathed in and tried again. "Please."

"Mm, you're makin' me weak, 'Livia," he sucked through his teeth, and she couldn't tell if he was taunting her. "Good ole manners get me hard, did ya know that?"

The apples of her cheeks flushed with color. Even in the now cool bathwater she could feel her pussy throbbing with warmth. The image of his cock confined in those fatigues... Heaven help her. "N-No, but I'll make sure to remember—"

"Yah, I bet you will."

"—Now please go."

Without another quip, Kruger's shadow slid across the curtain and disappeared after the quiet click of the door. Once she deemed herself alone, Olivia groaned into her knees. There had been the terrible fear that he would have drawn back the curtain, and she honestly felt surprised he hadn't bothered. Even if he held no interest in her like she suspected, the mischievous bastard could have snuck a peek just to humiliate her. Maybe he spoke honestly about her manners making him weak.

_'Everyone has their own peculiarities,'_  she thought, draining the tub and wrapping herself in a towel.

' _He'll get you to beg with that 'pretty please' talk. Also, looks like he snatched something of yours.'_

Olivia froze, noticing her missing clean cotton panties. "Oh, fuck you."

_'Hope this doesn't become a habit._


	11. Chapter 11

Olivia waited until the next morning to track down her stolen panties. The thin white cotton peeked out from the back pocket of a pair of his fatigues. She snatched them quickly as if he were watching over her shoulder. At least he hadn't tried to hide them, but she never assumed he would. The haughty child in him probably enjoyed his little games, especially at her expense. Luckily he had slipped out before she even woke to make his coffee, and yet again he failed to disclose where he would disappear to this time, or for how long. This would have to be something to expect from him.

As she buttoned the blouse to her uniform, she began to wonder what other eccentricities made Kruger the man he was. Drake and Crowe had to know something about their boss, if not practically everything, but the chances of her getting the two of them alone for questioning were slim. And for the sake of sparing themselves from their boss's wrath, they would not be willing to share the mystery behind the man. Oh well. There would be more fun if she discovered him herself.

* * *

The Raven lurched as the mercenaries touched down on Austrian soil. Kruger peered out of the door to look over the stretch of mountain that loomed above the plains.

"Targets are moving, boss," Crowe spoke from the control panel.

Drake moved to Kruger's side and eyed the forest just a few feet away. "It's a miracle we still have their mark. There's nothin' but the wild out here."

"It figures." Their leader gave a grunt as he stepped into the overgrown field where the tall grass brushed at his waist. "Just how far off are they, boet?"

"At least 26K yards away, sir."

"There's a settlement that way," Drake recollected. "Nothing there but old mills and farm houses."

"Perfect place for a rat to hide."

The smell of pine and thick morning mist made Kruger's head spin, but it was a refreshing break from the day-to-day heavy dust cloud that hovered over Los Angeles. This could be a place he could see himself retiring to in year's time. As much as he took pride in his homeland, he'd be damned if he had to see another dusty savannah. And while a reserved lot awaited him on the torus, he refused to pitch himself in with the Elysians. He didn't belong with them; he needed to be with his boys, with other brutes, recounting old war stories and living in the natural wilderness that only Earth could offer. Something in the far corners of his mind wondered where Olivia would play into this future. Six feet under, more than likely. He felt the corner of his mouth smirk. Kruger did not plan on retiring for years to come, and his lifetime would surely outlive her own.

"Good thing we got the drop on these fucks back in Guyana, eh?" Crowe spoke from behind. They had enough common sense to keep their voices low. "I imagine these won't be like last time..."

"Probably not." Kruger glanced at the communicator on his wrist. A cluster of orange triangles was coming in closer the deeper they stalked through the woods. "Not even going to be the dealers."

"You sure 'bout that?"

"Yah. There's a system, ya know. They're not gonna be the type of guys to move as a clusterfuck."

"So what exactly are we dealin' with?" Drake waved his arm at a dewy spider web he happened to walk into.

"Couriers. The suppliers are out now, thanks to us." Their boss grinned and gestured to a clearing up ahead. Looking past the trunks of the tall pines they spied a green pasture and beyond it's fencing, a small mill. "After these dogs, the dealers."

Stalking along the very borders of the forest, the men managed to bypass the unkempt paddock and found themselves at the side of the mill. The structure was clearly in shambles, the watermill growing moss and sitting still with rusted bolts. The bed of the creek lay dry; more than enough proof this quaint little farm town was no more.

Checking the monitor along his wrist once more, Kruger counted out at least 11 targets waiting inside. Motioning for his boys to move in, they thundered past the door, kicking in the wood and storming through the cloud of dust and splinters. The group of couriers, though alarmed by the squadron, wasted no time in grabbing what they could to defend themselves. With both sides moving quick, scoping the mercenaries' new surroundings was not so easy, but from what Kruger's hawk-like eyes saw, his boys were using the territory to their advantage, dodging behind bales of hay and stacks of labeled crates. In less than a minute alone they had taken out at least 4 of the group, leaving the rest to scatter and return fire.

Kruger's attention tore away from the dead man under his feet as some poor son of a bitch tried to wrestle him to the ground but instead wound up on the sharp end of his blade. 6 down. One would have to be spared for information, and once he'd confess, he would be disposed of immediately.

At the sharp sting of a bullet grazing his thigh, Kruger hissed and turned, making for the gunman who dared to fire at him. From somewhere behind he could hear Drake whooping as he had taken down another. They were enjoying this, as they always enjoyed a victory. He crouched low to the ground, another shot nearly grazing him, and swept his arm and blade at the depression behind the man's knees, slicing veins and tendons and sending the man stumbling to the floorboards screaming in anguish. This would be the one he'd interrogate. Kicking the gun far from the boy's reach, Kruger looked across the room to find Crowe finishing off the last man while Drake nursed a gaping lesion along his forearm.

"Walk it off, Drakey," he laughed. "Wouldn't want the little rabbit seeing you act like such a puss now, would ye?"

It only took Kruger a second to realize what he said, and judging by the look on Drake's face, he also understood that the slip was inappropriate. The subject of Olivia had been off-limits since her friendly drunken kiss, and now he just fucked that up. But hell, why did it even matter? That angered him more than anything.

"Boss—" Crowe tried to ease the tension, but was quickly barked at to quiet down while Kruger got to business, pulling the young man up by the collar and throwing him back against a crate of drug cargo.

"You okay, son?" Crouching down to eye level, Kruger gave the injured a hearty pat on his dirty cheek. "You're bleeding out there, ya know?"

Crowe tossed Drake a roll of medical binding and helped his friend to his feet. They joined their boss to tower over the last man standing. They knew well enough that Kruger loved to toy around with whoever he pleased, as a predator should.

"Shit, that must sting something terrible, eh?" The merc slapped the bleeding man's knees and proceeded to prod a finger into the open wound. The man screamed while the other two swore under their breath and watched on. "But you and I both know you were asking for it, shootin' at me like that. Me and my boys here were hopin' you'd lend us a helping hand. Wanna tell me who's waiting for these?" Kruger gave the crate behind the man's head a hard clap.

"I don't know shit," he wheezed, clutching his bleeding knees as if that would piece them back together.

"A lot of people in this business say shit like that, boet. I know you know, and you'd do good to tell me."

"Fuck off..." He groaned at a sudden surge of pain.

Kruger snatched the arm holding the pit of his knee and gave a quick slice to the crook of his elbow. He bled profusely, crying and yelling a string of swears, watered down by his sniveling.

"I'm not going to play this game with you," Kruger spoke low, gruff, a sound that was only provoked when he was near the short end of his fuse. "Now fix that mouth of yours and tell me."

Drake and Crowe exchanged impatient looks, both wishing the little shit would confess already.

"Look, I don't know the guy's name, alright? All I know is we were supposed to get this shit to L.A."

Kruger stilled, and then turned to his men. They all seemed intrigued that this cartel was being led right under their noses.

"Good enough." Kruger gave Crowe a sharp nod before the other man shot a bullet at the young man's frontal lobe. The boy slumped back into the crates and bled into the wood. "We're headin' home, boys."

* * *

A dancer in a sequined gown ran past Olivia, muttering something about her pay. The redhead made her way down the velvet-walled hallway, weaving in and out of the shadows the pink lights overhead created one after another. Markus's office waited just ahead, and she hoped she wouldn't be interrupting anything. When she knocked, she paused for permission to enter before slipping inside. Markus waved a huff of smoke away and put out his cigarette, glancing up at her through the haze. He was still on call.

"Look I need to go, I've got someone waitin' on me. Sure." Without a goodbye Markus put away his phone and shook his head. "Nothin' but stress...Anyway, what's up?"

"Things are getting a little hectic out there," Olivia replied, wringing her apron. She hated asking for favors. "We could use your help if that's okay—"

"Sure, sure. I need to get away from all my calls, anyway."

The two walked side by side towards the double doors that led away from the rooms reserved for any of the more promiscuous patrons.

"So how's it been with the army man?"

At first Olivia was unsure of what he meant, but then the image clicked. "Oh, it's been..." she struggled with the appropriate words. "...It's been whatever."

"Sounds about right. Haven't fallen for the charm yet, have you?" Markus teased and held the door for her. The club music nearly drowned his voice.

"...Nah."

' _Little liar_ _._ _'_

"Good, good. I'll handle the bar now so you can get back to your tables."

"Fun." Olivia felt for her pad and pen and scanned the room for any newcomers. A few of the construction crew from down the block had crowded one of her tables, ignoring the dancers on stage and chatting among one another. Probably just looking for a break and a few good drinks. Olivia moved her way around other servers and other busy tables to place their orders. Returning to the bar, her name was called out above the noise. Confused, she turned, eyes falling on the dark corner of the room. Kruger raised a bottle of beer and gestured for her to come over, and against the pleading of the little voice in the back of her head, she obeyed. When had he snuck in?

"Howzit, 'Livia?" he grinned and Drake and Crowe raised their bottles in greeting.

"It's fine. What do you need?"

"Whoa now, who said we needed anything? Maybe all we wanted was to pop in and say hello."

Fat chance. She wished he would cut the crap and let her get back to work, despite her finding him to be an almost welcomed distraction. "You need more drinks." She took note of their choice of beer and turned on her heels. "I'll be right back." Some part of her waited with bated breath to see if he'd snatch her back, make her stay and enjoy a drink with them. But he did not, and she walked away to the sound of Kruger ready to recount some story to the other two.

"You okay?" Markus must have picked up on the bubbling attitude brimming within her. She had such a terrible habit of wearing her emotions on her sleeve.

"Guess who's here?" she snipped, reaching behind the counter for a couple of drinks.

"Ah."

She honestly had no idea why she felt so tense to see him here. The panty snatching wasn't worthy of her copping an attitude with him. Maybe it was the atmosphere, the notion that he had come here for more than drinks. A man like him didn't come here to make chat and scram; a man like him came here to lose himself in the booze and showy women. And something about him eying one of the girls here set her on an edge she didn't want to admit to. She approached Kruger's table first, wanting to serve the trio and be done with it. Bad decision.

Olivia had been gone for at least a minute or two, and somehow in that time he had managed to wrangle himself a tiny blonde who giggled as he spoke and sat comfortably on his knee. She had seen this girl before on the stage, but she did not know her by name.

"There she is," he grinned wide and collected the drinks from Olivia's tray. "You're a doll."

With nothing to say, she turned and gave her attention to the table where the construction crew waited. As she passed around their glasses, she caught bits and pieces of Kruger trying to woo the woman who stared at him with starry eyes. "You look like you could use a man." Somehow over the bass of the music Olivia could practically hear him growl into the girl's ear. "Definitely takin' you home—"

That had been enough for her. Olivia didn't realize she had been storming through the club until she caught the sound of her heels clicking hard against the tiled floor. Reaching behind her, she hastily untied her apron with shaking hands. "Can I leave early?"

Markus looked up from the register. "What's wrong—"

"I don't care if you dock my pay but can I just...can I please just go?"

The bartender glanced over to the corner of the room. Hopefully he wouldn't think too much into this. "Sure. Go ahead, I can take it from here."

"Thank you."

Grabbing her bag, she didn't bother to stop and change out of her heels. She pushed herself through the back door and down out of the alley before turning down the street headed for home. She walked quickly, hands tight on the strap of her bag and eyes focused forward. The street lights were coming to life now, flickering above every other corner. Luckily she was not alone, but even if she were, she didn't care at this point. Her thoughts practically screamed for her to get home as soon as possible, away from noise and women and Kruger. But then again, even at home she wouldn't be able to be rid of him. If he did intend on bringing the blonde home, he'd be coming through the front door not too far behind.

Practically running up the flight of stairs, Olivia clawed through her bag for her keys, shaking just as terribly as she was before. After nearly dropping them, she unlocked the tumblers and threw herself through the front door, slamming it behind her. She nearly gave way right then and there, but she wanted—needed—to hide. Somewhere where she would be allowed to cry or conceal her frustration. Neglecting her bag of clean clothes, she slipped into the bathroom, locking the door and sliding back against the wood until she fell on her ass like the distraught mess she was.

' _He's going to bring her home,'_  her thoughts spat bitterly.  _'He's going to fuck her while you sit in here and listen.'_

"Fuck," Olivia tore at her heels and threw them across the bathroom where they hit the wall and fell into the tub.

The woman was nothing like Olivia. From the soft curls of her blonde hair to her slim, peach-colored legs, she looked more like the type of girl a man like Kruger would throw into his bed. The spark of hope that maybe he'd claim her now felt like an extinguished flame that scrambled to cling to life. She sullenly wished someone would snuff the desperate hope out already to spare her the intolerable pinching pain within her chest. It took her a moment to fully realize what that pain meant, and she raised a hand to her eyes to wipe away the tears that were beginning to blur her vision. She released her bottom lip from between her teeth and allowed herself to take quick and shallow breaths, now on the very edge of crying in the most ugly way.

_'He's going to bring more,'_  her thoughts came around again.  _'And you'll be back in here again and again...if you don't do something about it.'_

Olivia shook her head as if her own thoughts were another person in the room. "I c-can't. I'm not like that..."

' _You could be. For once you could try, instead of crying on the floor like a dumb bitch.'_

Before she could reply, the sound of the front door hitting the wall echoed across the apartment. Heavy steps and the petite clicking of heels followed, along with a hushed feminine voice and Kruger's sultry accent. Olivia couldn't make out a word of it, not that she wanted to. Then there was the heated sound of heavy kisses, harsh breathing, and the delighted squeaks of the little woman. Against her better judgment, she pressed her ear to the door and still her breath to hear. They were moving into his bedroom now, and the sound of falling clothes hit the floor. The quick sound of his belt being whipped from the loops of his fatigues made a sudden warm surge plow through her chest. The belt hit the floor, and then there was the creak of the mattress. Then a quiet murmur that was almost like listening to complete silence.

Just as Olivia began to wonder if he had strangled her instead, there came a loud slap, followed by a shrill cry. He slapped her, and for some reason, the idea made her pussy quiver from both shock and...excitement? She closed her eyes and continued to listen, mentally trading places with the woman in his bed. Her mind wandered, and she could picture herself under him, her own freckled cheek flushed and stinging after the backhanding. When the woman gasped, so did she. At the sound of Kruger's voice low and rumbling, Olivia felt her hand slowly unfasten her shorts and immediately shimmied them down her thick thighs. Her blouse was next, unbuttoned past the curve of her bra so she had enough room to slide under the cup and hold her breast.

' _You're going to cum while he's with another woman,'_  the voice returned.  _'Are you ashamed yet?'_

"Yes."

Despite her shame, she pushed her free hand under the thin lace of her panties and found herself already terribly wet. She blushed, embarrassed that she had to eavesdrop on one of his liaisons just for a release. No going back now. In the other room, she could hear them already fucking, the sound of quick breaths and the woman's drawn out moans like fuzzy white noise in her brain. No sounds from Kruger, which she took note of. Maybe his voice was at such a low register now that no matter how hard she strained to hear it, it felt unattainable. Still, she squeezed her breast, whining when she thumbed her nipple, and kept her head to the door just in case he made a sound. The fingers rubbing slow circles around her clit were making her dizzy, and she would surely fall into a heavy sleep after this was all said and done.

Suddenly there was a low snarl, and Olivia's fingers stilled as Kruger began to speak up over the woman's terrible keening.

"Fuck you're a screamer, aren't ya?" The woman replied with another long moan. "Should shove my cock in that hot mouth of yours just to get ye to shut up." His breathing was stunting, but he continued on with the stamina Olivia knew he possessed.

"Y-Yes," the woman begged. "Give me your cock, I want it—"

' _So do I...'_

Somehow Olivia could practically hear the smug grin stretching across his face, as if he were also aware of the redhead's thoughts. "Nah. Don't think you deserve it."

Olivia abandoned trying to listen in on the couple and instead focused on finding her own orgasm. The warm wet tears sat in the corners of her eyes as she lied back along the floor, still kneading her breast and still rolling her fingertips in tight circles over and around her clit. All the filthy things she wanted Kruger to do to her raced through her mind, and just as she finally came in a sharp flash of white, she could have sworn his ghostly image hovered over her, watching her come undone with the most satisfied look. Breathing into her hand, urging her body to calm, she blinked his image away and waited for sleep to overtake her. She said a silent prayer for him to be gone when she would awake in the morning.


	12. Chapter 12

Sunlight draped along Olivia's thighs through the dirty glass of the bathroom window. The warmth spread across her skin, coaxing a soft moan from her as she stirred on the floor. It hurt to blink through the morning light, and even while she registered her surroundings, she had blissfully forgotten where she recently spent the evening and why. Not even a minute into the new day and she already felt like cursing Kruger. Thanks to him, she had fallen asleep in a tiny locked room, tossed and turned on a cold floor, and woke to feel sore and aching.

' _For fuck's sake, you're crying again.'_  Her thoughts, normally snippy, sounded almost sympathetic.

She wiped at her eyes and frowned at the smear of tears mixing with last night's eyeliner. Not so much crying as tearing up, which still felt silly either way. Turning to the cracked mirror above the sink, she ran the faucet and washed the ruined makeup from her eyes. The sight of her natural looks staring back at her made a knot rise in her throat. Hiding behind makeup was her best trick, and without it, it felt like throwing off armor. And if whatever deity had overheard her prayer last night, she would be lucky enough to not have Kruger see her looking and feeling so defeated.

Olivia ignored the top unfastened buttons of her blouse and pulled her shorts back up and around her hips. She would bathe and find clean clothes later; all she wanted now was a cold drink and something to ease her gnawing hunger. Running a hand through her hair she stepped out and into the doorway, only to freeze.

"Mornin'." Kruger stood opposite her from across the room, hovering in the door of his bedroom.

Olivia felt an uneasy familiarity wash over her, now reminded of the morning all those weeks ago when she had awoke to find him naked and roused from his bed. But instead of politely looking away like she had then, she couldn't help but drink in the sight of him now. Everything about him screamed rested and confident, like a well-nourished beast of prey. A lion. And under his pinning stare, she felt like the frightened rabbit he had taken to calling her. For a moment she dared to glance at his manhood, and immediately the voice in the back of her mind gasped and gaped with provoked awe. The gossiping dancer at the Black Cat was right; this man possessed a real beast of a cock. Her eyes slid down from the dark trail of hair below his navel to the shaft's thick width. Oh Heaven help her.

Before he had any free opportunity to speak up, she spun on her heels and ducked into the kitchen. The floorboards creaked and she groaned inwardly at the idea that he followed after. Of course he would. He had caught her and now he had to have his fun.

She readied his coffee as he came in, a clean pair of trousers in hand. "Cat got your tongue? That's rude, ya know."

Olivia visualized a lion stalking through the dusty grassland.  _'More like a giant cat,'_  she thought.

"Sorry. Morning." She kept her eyes on the dark brew, which proved difficult thanks to him being so close.

A minute or so passed before he spoke up again. "Sleep well?" He bent at the waist and stepped into the fatigues, much to the disappointment and relief churning in her gut.

"Yeah. You?" She surprised herself by asking as if she cared.

"Like a dream," he practically purred.

The coffee hissed in its pot and both pairs of eyes honed in on the mug she poured for him. He took it without acknowledgement, humming as he threw it back and bathed in the drink's steam. They kept silent as she found a pan for his breakfast. Moving to the stove top, she felt his stare and an imaginary touch rake down her spine and disappear over the curve of her backside. She shivered, and he snorted into his mug. The floor creaked once more as she listened to him leave the room. She would have to be careful around Kruger, in both conversation and body language. But did it really matter when a man like him could so easily see through her. He may be a brute, but he was a clever one.

Kruger sat at the table, a cigarette between his lips and fingers drumming an unfamiliar tune. When Olivia sat his plate before him he hummed his approval and snuffed the cig on the wood. She scraped a mess of eggs and sausage from the pan and moved to return to the sink to wash, but he was quick and snatched his fork, giving a grunt and signaling her to stay put. Biting back the urge to tell him no, she took a seat, wincing when she heard her stomach growl. He continued to scarf down the meal, throwing back large gulps of coffee in between. She felt uncomfortable in the silence that sat between them, until finally he spoke through a mouthful.

"What happened last night, hm?" His dark eyes fixed on her, and the lion in her mind turned its eyes on a small rabbit treading carefully from its burrow. Before she could find the words to respond, he raised his fork and aimed it in her direction. "You went runnin' out the place."

"Yeah, I guess so." She swallowed the dry knot in her throat. That didn't answer him, but he didn't seem to care. Apparently he wanted to goad her, let her know he had seen her escape the club in such a hurry. Olivia mulled over this, and she decided he must have watched her from across the room. He wanted to get a reaction from her, for whatever reason.

"Hope it wasn't cause of something I did," he mustered a false sympathetic look that did not suit him, and the taunting tone behind it did not escape her. The gleam in his eye caught her off-guard, and for a moment she felt panic consume her. Did he know? How could he? She had been so careful to keep quiet, to muffle her cries of orgasm. She began to doubt herself, to wonder if she  _had_ screamed his name instead of whispering it longingly under her breath.

"No," she lied and met his eyes. "I was tired."

That seemed to settle the conversation (or maybe he just grew tired of it), and Kruger snatched his plate and rose from the table. But now he stood at her side, so close that the warmth of him made her skin flush.

The rabbit froze and locked eyes with the lion.

He reached for her blouse, tugging at the collar and barely grazing the slope of her neck. The material peeled away from her chest and exposed the pale slopes of her breasts, and, too shocked to pull away, Olivia had no choice but to sit still and allow it. The feel of his eyes raking her were there, but she felt no fiery sting that always accompanied his stares. This wasn't predatory; this was curiosity. It made her uneasy.

When she felt ready to worm her way from his grip, he released her and disappeared into the kitchen. The lingering feel of him hovered over her like a ghost until she shivered the sensation away. Kruger's peculiarities were something she had become accustomed to by now, but no matter what, the feel of his eyes on her would always fill her with dread. No one had eyes like him, black and penetrating and dead set on engulfing anything beneath him.

' _He's going to devour you in the end,'_  she thought.  _'And you'll love every minute of it.'_

Olivia excused herself from the table and returned to the bathroom, a clean sundress in hand. She hoped Kruger caught the loud click of the lock. She did not need his company as she bathed, not again.

While she eased herself into the warm water, she considered him not as a man, but as a mercenary. Kruger was made for the job, and if she didn't know any better, she guessed he would have been crafted by the military itself to create the perfect weapon. Well, maybe not perfect; there were definitely glitches, as she could tell his ego and temperamental behavior probably caused his superiors a migraine or two. The more Olivia considered this, the more she felt justified in believing he had always been this way. When she looked at him, she couldn't feel the presence of another life. He seemed like a primal creature, a man tapped into some state of animosity that others couldn't reach. The lion from before crept through her mind, stalking through the tall grass and purring low and heavy from it's chest. Lions, like all predators, were born with the instinct to hunt, to kill, and to claim. The same went for Kruger; nothing created him, this was just how he came to be.

Still...

He had been around for so long. You don't live a life like that without witnessing war, death, and the upheaval of society. He had mentioned Johannesburg, and though she tried to recall her teachings, she could not recall politics or wars. And would he discuss them with her? More than likely no. He would chase her around in verbal circles instead. Dunking her head below the bath water, Olivia squeezed her eyes tight and thought. She'd find a way around him.

Once she slipped into her cotton dress and ran a comb through her hair, she had made up her mind to take a visit into the heart of the city. There she would find what she sought. At least, she hoped she would.

* * *

"Want some beer?" Chucking a bottle into the streets below, Kruger laughed as a small group of workers dodged the glass and swore at him in their native tongue. "Sorry boys, swear that was supposed to hit one of ya!"

The sun beat down on the rooftop, making the merc's skin twitch. At least he was used to it, and God knows how many times he's fallen into a med bay with numerous accounts of skin cancer. Technology was a blessing and a curse, but he liked to lean more towards the positive. He looked towards the grill, but his stomach growled at the idea of eating so soon. The woman was a decent cook, he could admit that, and she kept him well fed with large helpings.

' _Housewife material, that one,'_  he thought, throwing back a swig of beer from a new bottle. Satisfying meals would always be the way to his old heart, or whatever sat there in it's place. Keep him well fed and well spent after a hearty fuck and he was content.  _'Haven't gotten to the fucking yet.'_

Olivia was no real beauty, but he couldn't deny that she had the tits and the plump hips to make up for it. Enough curves to grab onto, to sink his fingers into and bruise. Sending her off to the Black Cat had been the greatest decision of their strange relationship, since she would always come home with an open blouse and shorts that fit snug into her thick thighs. Christ. Taking another long swig he reclined back into a lawn chair and glared at the erection now pressing against the fly of his fatigues. There had been moments of fleeting weakness when Kruger wanted to abandon the thrill of the chase and shove his fingers past those shorts and into her pussy just to see if she was as wet for him as he thought. But no, he held back. He'd fuck her, soon, but for now enjoyed playing with his food.

After Kruger had abandoned the rooftop, he stepped through the steam of his shower and caught the sound of hurried footsteps and a series of heavy thuds hitting the floor. Either his boys had decided to pay an unexpected visit or the little rabbit was up to something. It could wait. For now he stood over the sink, shaking the water from his hair. He peered at himself in the mirror, cocking his jaw up and admiring the greying ends of his beard. 100 years and more under his belt and he still remained, feeling in perfect health, but looking more and more like some old wild dog. And that's how he felt, like a rabid stray that got its kicks by snapping its jaws and howling at the moon. Eventually those dogs would be put down, but not him.

Zipping up his fatigues, Kruger stepped out and found Olivia sitting cross-legged on the couch, a series of open books surrounding her. She didn't bother to acknowledge him.

"This is new," he muttered, making her look up with wide blue eyes. She paused her bite into a powdered pastry and licked the white dusting from her mouth. His cock twitched at the sticky white smear across her lips.

"It's research," and she returned to the book in her lap, tearing into the baked good.

Kruger sniffed and crossed the room, throwing a look out the window as to seem indifferent. "'Bout what?" So much for that act.

"History. South Africa, actually." She kept her eyes on the pages, reading along under her breath.

He scoffed. "Flattered. If you wanted to know about me, you coulda asked."

"Would you have told me?"

"Mm. Probably not." He grinned to himself.

"Guess that's what books are for then."

Kruger felt ready to snap back for her unusual lack of fear-induced reverence, but didn't bother wasting his breath. Let the girl do what she wanted, long as she kept out of his way and quiet. He pulled a cigarette from his back pocket. "Guess so."

"I found someone who looks like you."

Fingers slipping on his lighter, Kruger spun and peered closely at the book she held up for him. Her finger tapped at the built figure of a man posed over a campfire, a rifle slung over his shoulder. Surrounded by the bush and dirt, he looked right at home with his thick beard and dirty, tanned skin. It didn't take him long to figure it out.

"Well fuck me," Kruger suddenly laughed around the unlit cigarette between his lips. Snatching the book from her hands despite her protesting, he looked the photograph over, taking in a face of his past. "That's my old man."

Olivia ceased her pouting and looked to him in surprise, as if she believed he was never once a child with a family, but had simply crawled out of the brush already a hairy and lone wolf. "Really? You look so much like him."

The merc felt his chest swell with pride. "Course I do. The old bastard was the real deal, the alpha. Dominant genetics 'n that shit."

"That chapter's about the Bush War."

"Sounds 'bout right." Kruger refused to take his eyes from the photo.

"Did he survive?"

"Course he did," he snipped. She should know better, he thought, despite the fact that she would have no way of knowing. "Nothin' could take that man down."

"Something had to."

The glare he sent over the book caused her usually flushed cheeks to turn pale. She seemed to understand she had been out of line for that remark and apologized.

"Old age got him. Hate to burn out like that." Olivia didn't ask why, but he could tell the question sat on her tongue. Finally lighting the cigarette, he took a long drag and sighed a cloud of smoke. "You know how fuckin' depressing it was to watch him die? I didn't think anything could catch that man. He led a unit of his own mates and they took no prisoners. They were rumored to be the nastiest bunch of pricks. Served their country just fine, but became infamous while doin' it. Should've gone out in a blaze of glory. You don't make a name for yourself like that just to die a burden in the end. You go out in your prime so they can keep making a legend out of ya."

"...I guess that makes sense. So he refused med bays?"

"You never heard of the CCB but you know 'bout those?"

"Everyone knows about the med bays. They're not a well-kept secret. They were highly talked about back home. A lot of people called it unfair."

"Yeah, you hicks would, eh?" he laughed.

"There were protests and disagreements about them. A lot of people think they're unethical."

"Let me tell you somethin' about those people," he said, jabbing the butt of the cigarette in her direction. "They can say what they want, but at the end of the day they want it just as bad as everyone else."

"There are plenty of hypocrites back home..."

"Too right. Anway—" Kruger waved at the puff of smoke. "He never lived to see the med bays. Life expectancy was a whole lot lower than whatever it is now. When med bays did come along, me and my boys were immediately hooked up, thanks to our, uh, wonderful services to the community," he chuckled.

"What about your mother?"

"What about her?"

"Where was she during all this?"

"Hell if I know. Never had one. Just me and the old man and some whores. None of which were exactly motherly," he snorted.

"That explains a lot," Olivia mumbled beneath her breath, turning to pick another book among the pile.

"Speak up."

"Nothing. It's just sad, I guess."

"Can't miss what you never had."

A bout of silence passed between them. Kruger felt he had nothing else to say on the matter, and had become wrapped up in memories he normally kept to himself. While he never cared for the ghosts of his past weighing on his shoulders, this time he allowed them to stick around for a moment or two. Olivia glanced up at him once or twice, seeming almost concerned for his mute behavior.

"Thank you for that," she said softly, moving onto a new book.

"That'll be $40 for the history lesson." Taking the corner of the photograph and giving it a sharp tug, he tore the page from its spine and shoved it into his back pocket.

"Hey, I have to return these!"


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: A big thanks to those who continue to stay with me, those who encourage me, and my good friends for their help and support!
> 
> On another note, I feel I should address something. Both leave your sanity at the door and I will have similar approaches to how Kruger will, ah, assert himself onto our heroines. We honestly did not plan for this to happen (we did get a good laugh out of it though), but we wanted everyone to be aware of this so no one can be accused of plagiarizing in any way. I don't want to see anyone attacking either of us for it. This is what happens when friends think alike, eh?
> 
> Bonus points if someone catches the reference to the film mentioned in this chapter. And no, it's not the obvious choice.

"Morning," Olivia called from over her shoulder.

Having lived with Kruger for some time now, she started taking note of how his presence would immediately fill the room: the creak of wood under his weight and the eerie, sharp-eyed gaze with which he'd pin her. She'd begun to notice he'd become more observant of her as of late.

He didn't respond, and while she wished he would, she held her tongue and brought him his coffee. The chair groaned beneath him as he settled.

"Boys are comin'. Make 'em a plate."

When Drake and Crowe shuffled in, they immediately took a seat at their commander's side, promptly falling into some conversation Olivia understood nothing about. Still, she snorted at the bits she could hear through their combined laughter. A part of her longed to join them in their storytelling, and to understand their jokes and the scattered bits of foreign language. She figured this, the here and now, would be the closest she'd ever get to that level of familiarity. She scowled and pushed their voices out, concentrating on preparing their breakfast. Their camaraderie reminded her of the void a few childhood friends used to fill. The loneliness twisted miserably in her chest, but she forced it away as best she could. What good would self pity do?

"We're waitin'," Kruger's voice broke through the discussion.

Olivia collected her skillet and hurried to the table. "Good morning." She pushed the scrambled meal onto their plates.

"Mornin'," the two nodded, forks ready in hand. Just like their boss, they too seemed to appreciate her cooking and tore into it without hesitation.

"Before you know it," Kruger leaned into the table and set Olivia with a look as she took a seat, "they'll be calling you their mother."

Olivia returned his gaze, lips pouting in confusion, but they seemed to pick up the joke she must have missed.

Crowe scoffed through his food: "Got one already. One's enough."

"Your old lady's been in the ground for a long time, boet," Drake laughed, making Kruger chuckle as well.

"And I don't need another one."

"I wouldn't complain," the other man mused. "Wouldn't mind havin' a woman to look after me."

"Good luck finding one."

They broke into laughter, leaving Olivia feeling less and less a part of the conversation. More than anything she wanted to leave the table and remove herself from this uncomfortable embarrassment, but Kruger was keeping her fixed with a quiet stare, one that she could not read, and she wished he'd look away. If she were any other woman, she would be afraid of the intensity with which he watched her. Instead she felt exposed, as if he could see right through her. When he looked away, her heartbeat began to slow and she was able to breathe again.

Once alone, Olivia collected their plates and gave them a proper wash before finally fixing her own morning meal. Normally she didn't care for breakfast, but the way the merc had stared her down left a gnawing sensation that just had to be filled. She sat in silence and imagined he were still there at the head of the table, engaging her with his banter rather than isolating her at the far end.

"Good morning," she smiled to the empty seat and imagined he responded over his coffee.

* * *

The Raven had been humming above the outskirts of Los Angeles for at least three hours, and Kruger, hovering over Drake's shoulder, felt the strain of staring at the controls begin to work behind his eyes. Tearing himself from the screen, he threw the wall of the aircraft a hard punch, making the other men twitch under their skin. Many years ago they would have jumped at his temperament, but it became second nature to adapt to Kruger's predictably unpredictable behavior.

"Someone's goin' to make the first move," Crowe offered after an hour or so of no activity.

Whoever these dealers were, they were smart enough to keep to themselves and refrain from panicking at the stall in their plan. Kruger had predicted a scout would find the old farmhouse and the lack of cargo and would report back to his higher authorities that someone was tampering with their operation. It wouldn't be long now before they would realize the couriers had been long dead and their connections would be severed, leaving them isolated and susceptible. As soon as someone stepped out of line, Kruger would be breathing down their neck.

Now settled at the far end of a bar in one of the less satisfying gentlemen's clubs, Kruger's gaze darted from one corner of the room to the other, from the small woman straddling the pole to the group of haggard agents crowded around a table away from the fluorescents. A few of them he couldn't make out through the haze, but one in particular caught his eye.

The young man excused himself from his company and moved along the skirt of the black velvet wall. Kruger sighed against the lips of the bottle, anticipating a conversation he was not in the mood for. Not that he hated the boy – on the contrary, he normally didn't mind a friendly word or two – but tonight he wished he could just enjoy his beer and slip away. Too late.

Ramanauskas approached him with a clap on the shoulder and a wide grin. "There's an old face!"

Kruger could practically hear a following punch line over the bass humming in his ear. It brought a wry smile to break through his beard. "Careful, Ozzie. This old man's still here for a reason."

"Oh of course, man, of course. Someone's got to put the rest of us to shame."

"You don't lie. What're you doin' here?"

"The boys say they came here for the food but I think they're terrible liars. Koval hasn't taken his eyes off our waitress all night." The two men looked back to watch a lanky clean-shaven man eye a brunette from across the room.

"You're never around here. What's got you in the city?"

"Pit stop, if you can believe it."

"I don't," Kruger laughed along with Ramanauskas. There was a rule that asked agents to steer clear of sharing mission information with one another, even if that rule was more often than not broken. The young Lithuanian however preferred to oblige by most regulations, and in a way Kruger respected that.

"You look like you've had one hell of a day."

"Resting bitch face."

"No no, not that. I mean you really look out of it, man. I'll tell you what..." the young man looked over his shoulder at the double doors just to the right of the stage. "I know one of the girls who works here. She's a friend of my guys' pilot. I'll get you a free woman for the night. I'd say that beats crawlin' back to an empty home, eh?"

Kruger considered the offer for a moment and looked down at the beer in his hand. "You have to show a man the goods before you can sell 'em, boet."

"Too right. C'mon, I'll introduce you."

He followed after through the labeled doors and down a corridor. Ramanauskas smiled to a pair of dancers squeezing by, while Kruger dismissed them and their girlish giggling. This place was no Black Cat, and a part of him yearned for the lavender uniforms of the servers again, along with the familiar smell of smoke and stretched leather booths. At least there the women were women, and not girls who looked too young and inexperienced to be considered legal.

The young woman Ramanauskas introduced to him looked nothing like Kruger's particular tastes. While petite in size, she stood just an inch or two under his 6' height. Even if she removed the stilettos, she would still be too tall for his liking. Her dark hair didn't suit her angular face, and her lips were thin and colored an unnatural pink. The only thing she had going for her, poor girl, were her strong calves and deep brown eyes. And he would not pass up on a free rendezvous. The agent wished him well and returned to his table, leaving Kruger and his new acquaintance alone.

As he sat back along the worn leather of the customer's usual seat, he watched her begin to slip away her thin dress and move in slow, deliberate circles, trying to catch his interest in her lack of appealing assets.

' _Good luck, sweetheart.'_  He clucked his tongue and relaxed back along the wall.

Not even the fitting, lacy lingerie she now danced in could rouse him, but then again, frilly things never truly could. They only reminded him of the frailty of women, and how their tastes were cheap. There's no fun when there's little left for his imagination to wander. In this woman's case, there had been very little to begin with.

As if she could sense his indifference, the woman came close and bent at the waist, reaching behind to unfasten her glittering brassiere. Feeling a bit more inclined, Kruger leaned forward and cupped her breast. Not even a handful. Her smile fell as soon as he pulled away.

"You don't like me?" Her Russian accent was thick, and her pouting made his stomach turn.

"I haven't said a fucking word to you."

Seeming determined to win him over, she ran her fingertips up and down his thighs, merely inches away from his flaccid cock. If this night ended with her on her back begging for him, he very much doubted his manhood would even rise to the occasion.

While she turned to slip her thong down her pale legs, Kruger's mind crept to the far corners where he kept his thoughts of Olivia. He could never see her in a whore's clothes. Her body was made for warm, figure-hugging cotton and teasingly revealing dresses, not lace and stilettos. He truly missed the comforts of his generation's palate. Women were fuller, plush, and made to fit in his hands. Whenever he bothered to return to his lot on the torus, he would never indulge in Elysian women. Most were pretty trinkets to look at, but they might as well be tasteless. When he looked at Olivia, he would take in her flushed fair skin and round body and could savor the sweet taste of peaches on his tongue. When he watched her, he wondered if she could sense his craving to consume her and watch her break under his hands. And she  _would_  break, as she was unfamiliar to his ravenous appetite.

The continuing consideration of Olivia's body vulnerable and unseen by another man made the alpha in him feel possessive of her. He would not allow anyone to hold what he had yet to feel beneath his fingers. Suddenly he wondered just how many men had watched her with just as much intent to have her. He knew the twisted minds of depraved men who would do anything to take what they want. He had been down that road before. The first night she'd come home in her uniform, he had questioned her if they indeed touched her. The query had been meant to tease her, but now it fueled something else. They had touched her, she confessed. Men who were worth nothing compared to him had touched what he had yet to taste. How long would he allow his game to continue before someone took what he deserved? Olivia would not offer herself to anyone, and that was all the more reason for him to fear another man taking from him what he coveted.

The young woman fell to the floor as Kruger shoved her from his lap and stormed out into the corridor. Other girls rushed by to collect their friend as she cried over her disgust at his behavior. She would certainly never have to concern herself with him again, as he was not about to waste himself on a woman who did not merit his attention. Kruger would indulge in better company very soon.

* * *

Olivia watched as the young woman fainted at the sight of a beast dressed in princely, royal garb. She hummed along to the soft orchestra, completely enthralled by the black and white film. It was unbelievable to find something so many years before her time—before Kruger's time, possibly—airing so late in the evening. There had been something so romantic that drew her in and kept her curled up in front of the television set.

She hadn't planned on staying up so late, but as she made herself comfortable, she had gotten lost in her daydreams and couldn't bear to go to sleep until the man who occupied those very fantasies was safe at home. It had taken some time and struggle to admit to herself, but ultimately she gave in and recognized her rising attachment to Kruger, though still wary of his, well,  _everything._

Olivia allowed her hands to wander across the skin where the skirt of her dress revealed her thighs. She imagined the feather-light touches were not her own but his curious hands traveling upward. While it was nice to be alone again, a wicked part of her wished Kruger would come home and find her like this. She wanted him to watch her, to touch her in ways she never imagined and kiss her like a possession. But she jumped and stared at the door, completely afraid he truly would slip in unannounced and startle her from her dream.

' _Just stop it,'_  her thoughts chastised.  _'Just stop it and—'_

The heavy sound of footsteps hurrying up the flight of stairs just outside the door startled her, and her heart began to pound incessantly.

When he entered, Kruger's eyes were holding her like the lion spotting the cornered rabbit. She licked her lips, uncertain if she should greet him or falter. Before she could have the chance to decide for herself, he advanced quickly and pulled her from her seat.

With both her freckled upper arms in his grip, Kruger pressed Olivia into the table where she caught herself on its edge. The wood bit into her palm as she was forced to hold tight now that the merc practically pinned her beneath his towering height. Grasping for something to say – anything – she felt her breath hitch in her throat once his free hand forced its way under the skirt of her sundress and between her legs. His warm, calloused skin felt so out of place against the soft thickness of her thighs, but in no way was she going to complain, especially when her lips were occupied with his own. Her thoughts became hazy as soon as she felt the heat of him radiate through the layers of clothes still keeping them from one another. Her breasts pressed flush to his chest, nipples peaking through the thin fabric. She felt sensitive, overly so, and wished to feel his hard physique press against her blushing curves. Her conscience's snippy voice had nothing to say, and if she could she would breath a sigh of relief.

His taste was rich and heavy on her tongue, and the feel of the delicious warmth of a flame in her belly made her melt into him. The hand not bracing the table rose to grab ahold of his sleeve, to anchor herself to him. However, unsatisfied, her fingers strayed up to brush the grey of his beard before sinking into his shaggy locks. Kruger's fingers tugged aside the fabric of her panties, the blunt cut of his nails rubbing over the now pink and puffy lips of her pussy. Despite her whimpering he did not pull away, and the hand gripping her moved to fasten around her neck, to put her in her place. He was claiming her entirely, inhaling her moans and soaking in her trembling. No loving caresses, no gentility. Kruger was no fairy tale, no happy ending. Olivia was too old for those stories, and, being completely honest with herself, she didn't want to wait for some Prince Charming.

The table's harsh edge dug into the soft curve of her ass, provoking a different kind of moan from her. Kruger stepped back to observe her flushed cheeks and friction-red lips. Still she wouldn't look at him, too embarrassed to even acknowledge his intent stare.

"You feel me there?" His fingers pressed against the wet flesh between her thighs. "Look at me."

Surprised at how patiently he waited for her to answer, she raised her gaze to his own. Rewarding her with a grin, he tightened his grip on her neck and she could feel his nails leaving crescent moons into her skin.

"That's a good girl," he muttered before claiming her lips again.

Olivia could feel his stare boring into her, watchful and curious to capture each reaction he pulled from her. When he grew bored with tasting her lips, he broke apart and looked down between his body and hers. Pressing his fingers into her mons, he groaned as one slipped into her slick warmth. Olivia cried out, bucking into his hand. Kruger chuckled and rubbed his fingers up and down the span of her pussy. His thumb pressed hard to her clit, circling the sensitive bud up and around. Her thighs quivered at the heightening sensation. Unused to another's touch, she knew she wouldn't last long.

"Oh God..." her voice climbed an octave, the pleasure beginning to take over all of her.

"I'm right here, baby," Kruger's lips brushed the shell of her ear as he grinned, seeming proud of his own wit.

Curling another finger into her, he found her quick. The matching pressure deep inside her pussy and along her clit sent bright stars behind her eyes. Changing their pace, the fingers slowly plundered while he hovered over her, breathing in the musky sweet scent of her. He exhaled deeply into her hair, his breath warming her cheek.

"You close?" His fingers stilled inside her and she keened in desperation. "I know, baby, I know..."

"I-I—Ah!—" Olivia buried herself in the crook of Kruger's neck and warm tears swelled on her lashes. She felt heavy from the hazy scent of smoke and sunlight on his collar.

"You're soakin' me, 'Livia. C'mon and cum for me, eh? C'mon..." The dangerous edge of his voice made Olivia's heart leap and her nipples ache in arousal.

When she felt as if her body could no longer take his fervent stimulation, she squealed, her pussy shuddering around his fingers. Kruger's arm encircled her waist and held her close while her entire being shivered from the glow of her orgasm. He encouraged her, voice muffled into her hair, pulled his fingers from her and gave her wet inner thighs a hearty squeeze. She stood light on her toes, thankful to have his sturdy build for support.

He didn't speak as he lifted her from the floor and set her atop the table, but the heated gleam in his eyes told her enough; there was no walking away from this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 2: Getting hot yet? Sorry to leave you here, but I am a horrible tease.


End file.
